


All Men Must Die

by BirdieCox



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Game of Thrones (Tabletop RPG), Game of Thrones (Video Game 2014), Game of Thrones RPF
Genre: Animal Death, Arya Stark-centric, Book 6: The Winds of Winter, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Death, Eventual Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Eventual Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, F/F, F/M, Game of Thrones References, Game of Thrones Spoilers, Gen, Inspired by Game of Thrones, Jon Snow is King in the North, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Character(s), Multi, POV Arya Stark, Post - The Winds of Winter, Reunions, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates, Spoilers for Book 6 - The Winds of Winter, The House of Black and White, Winds of Winter - sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 66,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22378555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdieCox/pseuds/BirdieCox
Summary: Arya was the daughter of Ned Stark: then an orphan, a boy, a weasel, a cat, an blind girl. Now is a mummer but she is tired of being no one. She wants to be part of a family again and going home.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Daario Naharis/Daenerys Targaryen, Euron Greyjoy/Cersei Lannister, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Meera Reed & Bran Stark, Meera Reed/Bran Stark
Comments: 54
Kudos: 128





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!! This is a story of my favorite Game of Thrones couple, because I hated most of the end of the serie <3 I mixed some things of the TV serie and the chapter of Arya/Mercy from Winds of Winter. Sorry if I have spelling mistakes or drafting errors, english is not my native language.  
> Enjoy it <3

She woke not knowing who she was, or where. _I am Mercy, the youngest mummer of The Gate. Mercy, Mercy, Mercy. I have a role to play tonight._

Mercy was sick of working in The Gate. Her clothes were devoured by the mustiness of they playhall. The wood of the walls had a lot of reindeer moss and vermin. She was always scared of falling down stairs, breaking her neck and having a ridiculous death because the building was in very bad general condition. The worst part were the water snakes living in the flooded cellar. She was not scared but they were a nuisance. _At least they are non venomous._

Izembaro always told her a bare scalp helped wigs fit better and she shaved her head until the day she killed Raff the Sweetling and threw his body into a canal. Eels ate him and the only thing she could feel was pride. Pride of being a daughter of Winterfell and having the name of Arya Stak. Because she was Arya, not Mercy, an orphan or a boy. Since that day she allowed the dark hair. It begin to grow slowly but her tufts of hair were almost touching her shoulders. She wanted to remove the face of Mercy just for a minute but she dindn't, scared of seeing her father's face.

The kindly man would know it and that would be the end of everything.

Singing, Mercy combed her hair and dressed. A shapeless skirt, red blouse, shoes. She threw her cloak around her body and hid coins into a secret pocket. She looked graceful even with old clothes. She descended the wooden stair to the street and crossed the crooked city.

That day The Gate looked well. The threshold was embellished with plants and flowers and Big Brusco was there. A lot of cattail lanterns were placed and he was lighting the candles inside them.

"You are late." said Brusco when she was near of the door. "Lady Stork is asking for you. She needs some help with her gown again."

Izembaro appeared out of nowhere asking about his crown. She went to the privy where he always left it. Then she found part of the company assembled behind the stage. Lady Stork smiled warmly and gave her the gown. Her own sewing was wretched but Lady Stork was even worse. She bit her lips while working in the hem of the dress.

"Mercy, your lips are so red." teased her Bobono. "I would love to kiss them. I would give you everything you want if you make me a real man someday."

"Would you give me your little cock? A necromancer would give me a lot of gold for yours." The dwarf was always joking like an idiot and the only way she had to stop him was doing as him. "I will give you one made of gold, you won't miss this" She touched the horrible cock made by the wardrobe mistress with leather.

"Don't tease her, you bad." Lady Stork smiled looking at his face. "Mercy deserves a prince."

He tried to grab her chest but she kicked his fake balls. "Your scorn is hurting me, beautiful Mercy." Bonobo started lo laugh. "Someone please give me wine, it helps me to overcome the sadness of Mercy's rejection."

He and Lady Stork started to read their monologues and she finished her work. The gown was aceptable but Pargo would have to sew it again after the performance. Mercy was so bad at sewing, just like Arya Stark was. Every time she had to help Pargo with dresses she couldn't stop thinking in Sansa and Jeyne Poole teasing her because of her horrible needlework. Mercy tried not to do it but she always had dreams of wolves running into the woods. 

When she finished she gave the gown to the woman. She helped Brusco with the lanterns and gave to Marro a big helmet. She found Izembaro's crown again in a new place and ran for his wine. Then she put on her slave clothes, silk garments and a big belt with jewels. She had the role of a sweet maid who gave messages from a lady to her hansome lover, a traitor who left her for adventures. _These clothes are embarrasing but men will be impressed._

She put her black wig and took a peek into the place. The four balconies were full as ever she'd seen it with people joking and jostling and drinking. Was rare to find the second level more than a half full but maybe the Dome and the Blue Lantern had bad entertainments. A vendor was spreading rose petals into the pelts of wine and a girl was selling chunks of cheese. Many girls and boys sold their young bodies to old people whose clothes were black or grey. When her friend Daena started to cry at stage she passed from a mummer to a young and innocent slave.

Her role was successfully played. Izembaro was satisfied, some keyholders complimented him for having a nice place and beautiful mummers. He gave to the company some extra pieces of silver. Of course they were talking about the splendid mature woman, the smiling girl and the youngest one. Was she a maiden?

"Mercy, how old are you?" Izembaro sighed taking his clothes off with difficulty.

"Thirteen."

She was not sure of her age. Braavosis had a different way to count days and the last time she had a nameday she was eleven years old. She lived a lot of time in Braavos not knowing her age, maybe she was fourteen or more.

"Phario Forel has written a tragedy about a young princess. its name is Affliction of the wolf maiden. Mercy is going to be Arya, a princess married to a terrible man named Bolton. Brusco will play Ramsay Bolton and Lady Stork will be Cersei Lannister again. I made a list with the rest of characters for you.

He was telling everyone that they will play a new kind style of drama so he expected they will do their best to represent the sad story of the poor girl. "People from Westeros know she cries every day because of a bad husband so I want passion, agony an real tears. I'm talking to you Mercy, your tears tody were not convincing"

_Arya Stark._

Nothing could be further from the truth than a marriage. Arya Stark was death for most of Westeros, maybe he was wrong. Maybe he wanted to say Sansa. _But maybe Sansa is dead._

What was happening?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!!!! Thanks for reading even if my english is not the best <3 enjoy this chapter <3 <3 <3

_"I am asking for your compassion. I dont't have my innocence anymore, let me preserve the pride of my house. The purple flowers you have painted in my body are nothing compared to the scars you left in my bloody heart..."_

"This is terrible, Mercy!" Izembaro started yelling frustrated. "Your voice is annoying, you have to be sweeter! You are scared and he seems like he hates you! Your actual tears are not real, cry like you did in The Bloody Hand. Don't exaggerate!"

If Izembaro was angry with her acting, she was about to explode. Phario Forel would had the bloodiest quill in Braavos but was not funny watching her family represented like that. Her own representation was specially annoying, a week and weepy girl who didn't try to flee of her destiny. _I was not like her, I killed a stableboy when I was nine and I did everything I had to do to get away from queen Cersei and Joffrey._ She glanced about anxiously when she realized she was thinking like Arya Stark. She coudn't know if Phario was right or not, because she was just a little mummer from Braavos.

_That's not me_ , she thought stubbornly. She made poor, questionable decisions but that was not her.

Of course Bonobo had a better character. He was an evil man with a short beard and big smile who sold the girl to Ramsay and Roose, Brusco and Marro. "You should practice more, Mercy" he said laughing.

Izembaro agreed with him. "Ramsay rapes women and feed his dogs with their bodies when he is bored of them. His first wife was confined by him into a tower and she starved to death, after gnawing off all of her fingers. He is the personification of evil. Is dishonorable, ruthless and depraved. You are a maiden scared of him because he is capable of unspeakable atrocities for pure amusement. So let's do it again.

Arya Stark had a trouble but Mercy had troubles too. Daena was angry because she wanted her role and they didn't speak for a few days. And Wendeyne was worse. She slept with Izembaro with the hope of replacing Lady Stork someday. She only saw Mercy as her opponent and competitor.

"She is scared of you." Said Lady Stork.

When Izembaro got satisfied was late and stars were shining as diamonds. Lady Stork invited her to a new inn located in the Purple Harbor. The owner, a baker from Westeros was nice and a he knew how to cook properly. They changed their gowns and left The Gate. Was not a long walk, both places were near.

The place was not filled and an old man was sweeping the impeccable floor with a wooden broom. He smiled when he saw them and his eyes dancing when Lady Stork waved at him.

"Welcome, beautiful ladies. I'm glad to see you."

He was nice and he even kissed Lady Stork's hand. She strutted laughing in a way she had never seen. The room was not packed and the mummer chose a table in front of a window. The inkeeper gave them a pair of tankards.

"Usually people come here before night" his braavosi was almost perfect, "but something told me you'd be here today, Lady Stork. I have red wine for you and for milk for this pretty child."

"I'm not a child," laughed Mercy. "I'm a maiden."

"My apologies, m'lady." She drank the milk and he laughed too. "For you I have delicious roast beef, civey sauce and apple hearthbread. A ship from my old home brought oranges and lemons. I will cook for you some pastries. Of course they'll be compliments of the house.

She reminded Sansa Stark loved lemon cakes, they were her favorites. She felt sad for a moment but she coudn't though about it because Lady Stork ordered a lot of food. Mercy wanted to pay her part but the woman stopped her. "You'll invite me another day. We are celebrating!" She raised her tankard and drank the wine. "You improve your acting skills every day. I'm sure you'll be a better mummer than I am. Maybe if I leave The Gate you will replace me"

Mercy got chills. Did she really wanted lo leave the playhall? She stared at her and Lady Stork understood what did she wanted to know.

"Don't look at me like that, sweetling. I'm not young anymore and time is heartless." The voice, usually happy sounded gloomy. "But I'm not old. I can marry someone and have a new life. I would like to find a good and generous man."

"Do you want to get married? Do you have someone special in yor mind?"

"The inkeeper. I was here before and he seems like a good person even if he is not handsome or rich. Women like me don't have so much options but if I marry him I will have a very respectable living."

"But you can't marry a man if you don't love him. You are a great actress, you may teach how to act to girls."

Lady Stork kept silent. Food was served. Mercy finished her milk until the older mummer spoke.

"Mercy. Have you ever been in love?"

Mercy didn't have a lover or something similar but the memory of a love song came to her head. _Maiden of the Tree_. Tom of Sevenstrings sang it when she was wrestling with Gendry in lady Smallwood's forge. After that she got angry with him and that girl who wanted to ring his bell. _Boys are stupid,_ she decided. _All of them._

"No."She finally said thoughtful. "I haven't"

"I was in love when I was fourteen. I lived with my father, he was a prosperous merchant who wanted a rich man for me. I fled with my boy and he left me when we spent our coins. I did terrible things to survive. I was lucky of meeting Izembaro."

"I can't understand you."

"I can marry the innkeeper and give him a son or a daughter. I like children. He would protect me. There's nothing better than feeling protected and loved by a good person. Maybe I will visit my father someday with a lot of boys and girls. He is old and still living here.

"Are you sure about this?"

"I am. Because, Mercy, women never get to really have their own lives if we are not strong. Unfortenately I'm not made of steel."

Arya Stark was protected and loved by good people in Winterfell. Her parents, her brothers. Then, when Joffrey and queen Cersei ruined their lifes she was protected by Yoren and then she rode with Gendry and Hot Pie but they left her for a safe place into the inn and the Brotherhood Without Banners. And the Hound. _Gendry never talked about leaving me, even if he join them. The Hound kidnapped me when I ran like an idiot, I listened his voice calling me until the horse went away. And I left the Hound dying alone, that's the worst thing I could do to him. I am merciless._

_But I am not Arya Stark now. I am Mercy._

"If you marry him you'll always have delicious food." She said kindly.

Lady Stork laughed when she bit her dessert as a wolf. After that she asked Mercy to left her alone with the inkeeper. She wanted to thank him. Mercy smiled and left her alone.

She took the path to her room. She liked the long way where she had the sea before her and the sky above, and a clear view of sailors and ships. There were men moving boxes and little boys running. She saw the Sealord with his wife, both dressed with black clothes. Walking near of the sea, a young man looked lost. She smiled and he neared to her wondering if she knew how to go to the Ragman's Harbor. "I walked and got lost. Can you tell me where do I have to go?"

"I'm going there, if you want we can go together. My name is Mercy. Are you from Westeros?" She asked with her best braavosi.

"I'm Donnel. You are right, I am returning from Myr."He seemed facinated with her. "My ship is going there in two or three days."

"Two days? That's soon."

"Are you interested in Westeros?" Donnel walked so slow, she had to walk slow too. "You can travel there for twenty silver coins. Is expensive but war is dangerous. And we have good cabins."

She wanted to kick herself. Her question was stupid and even he could saw how much did she wanted to travel. "My friend is the one who wants. She won't watch me playing my role if she goes there."

He was genuinely interested on Mercy and her work so they walked together until they found the ship, named Lady of Waters. She could talk to the captain who told her they had just two nights to left Braavos. He said that he could give a room to her friend if she went before it.

Mercy went to her little house. She knew she would miss the mummers, they were her friends for a long time. But that life was over.

Inside her room, the kindly man was wainting for no one.

Mercy had to go. She learned everything the mummers could teach her. She had to die.

"Spider's whey. A girl is going to drink this and the mummers will think she is dead. They will send her to the House of Black and White and she won't move even if she can. She is going to train again with the servants of the Many Faced God. They trust a girl can understand her loyalty belongs to him."

He gave her a vial of black liquid and left her. She felt sad for him. He did many things for her but she didn't change her opinion.

She drank the tonic and looked herself at mirror. Her cheeks changed from pink to white, she seemed almost like a skull. Her body was rigid as corpses but she could move easily. Well. She went to sleep.

"She is dead, she is dead! Somebody help me!"

Lady Stork's scream interrupted her dream. Maybe she went for her as she did when Mercy stayed at home sleeping. Daena came to her room just to find the older woman crying. That day, all the mummers went there to give her the last goodbye.

Mercy didn't have a family so the mummers sent her to the House of Black and White. Her eyes were closed but she knew she was taken by sea to the house of the god. The acolytes descended her to the third cellar. She had to be fast. When there were no people she ran outside. Needle.

Halfway down she knelt. The stone didn't move at first, but she persisted. Finally a crack opened before her. Her sword was safe and sound there. She took Needle and went fast to the Purple Harbour. When she was there, the sun reflected into the green water with orange shadows. Braavos was vonderful, she knew she will miss it. Slowly she took Mercy's face and threw to the water which drove it to the sea.

An elderly woman felt: by instinct she helped her. "Thanks, sweetling. Let me thank you." Unexpectedly the woman tried to stab her in the stomach but she avoided the knife and it wounded her in her right arm. The woman tried to do it again but she kicked and pushed her against the stones of the bridge. She showed her real face: the waif.

Scared, she jumped into water and swam away of her. With one of her sleeves she made a bandage, better than nothing. The Gate was near and she knew very well that part of the city. She needed loose the waif.

The Drowned City was the eldest place of the city located where the town felt into the lagoon. There was not so much people living in the higher part of the half-submerged towers and domes. She crossed the Spotted Cellar mingled with the people which enjoyed the eels fights and stopped to rest next to the lagoon.

She inspected her arm, it hurted her but no so much. It was dirty because of mud and wet: its healing would take several days. The water reflected the body of the waif, who smiled. "I always knew you were Arya Stark. You cannot lie to me as you did to him."

"I tried to lie but he never believed me."

"That's why you don't deserve to serve with faceless men."

"Do you?"She didn't turn to the waif but saw her by her reflection.

"I will. After killing you." She tried to stab her again but Arya was faster and her strenght was bigger. They fighted and the waif fell into the lagoon. There was a barge near and Arya swam to it. The owner seemed surprised and angry when she boarded. The waif tried to do the same: her childish body touched the man's heart but as long as he tried to help her, Arya pushed them out of the barge. Before someone could catch her, she jumped to a big tower. She found stairs and followed them until she found a door. It was closed but she just had to push it. She saw a ritzy room where a woman with elegant white gown and a veil was holding a vase with flowers.

"Who are you?"she asked and Arya couldn't see her feelings."

"No one."

The woman saw her arm. "Your body is wounded. If you want I have bandages and ointments. Unfortunately I don't know how are them applied. You can make use of them. Also the water of the washbasin."

Doubting, she loosened the cloth strip and washed her arm the best she could. The she used the ointment and applied the bandage. "Thank you."

She was ready to kill her.

"I know you. You used to sell clams and cockles in the harbour. Once I sent a servant to buy in the Purple Harbour."

For a reason she didn't know, she couldn't murder her. "I must go. It's late."

"Is not late and you seem tired. Stay here for a time. Sit and rest."

That was true. She felt tired and had no energy to continue with her aching body. She sat and thought. If the woman was not with the waif, she would probably die but she had to escape. _I will kill the waif_. 

After an hour the night was dark and she decided to go. The woman asked her where did she go. "To death."

The veiled woman removed the white shroud. She had big blue eyes and hair black as a crow. "Take this veil and wear one of my dresses. You'll never swim with that wounded arm. We'll go together until the shore of the lake and you can go wherever you want."

"Why are you doing this?" She inquired.

"World is cruel with woman. Specially with young flowers blossoming."

She hid her sword and wore the shroud and the gown the woman was wearing because that was the only way to knew it was sure. She knew about poisoned dresses and jewels. Their bodies were so similar, and when she looked herself at a mirror, she tought she looked just as the woman did. Oarsmen didn't talk when she boarded the barge and sat like a great lady in front of a damsel in a white dress. She saw the waif watching them.

The barge went at water's edge and she whispered to the woman she needed go. With her long black hair flying, she told the oarsmen her mistress wanted to stop. They left and covered by night changed their clothes. "Thanks for helping me."

"It was nothing."

They said goodbye and the veiled woman dissapeared. _She must feel alone although the beautyof her face_. She ran to The Gate but she didn't use the main door but the entrance of the flooded cellar. 

Walking carefully to avoid disturbing the water snakes nested there she removed her gown which made difficult to advance. "I knew you'd come here", the waif was waiting for her, "it was quite intelligent in your own way channging places with that courtesan but not enough. I' m gonna kill you. Then your friends. You bodies will feed these snakes."

The waif punched her face and Arya avoided the terrible blow. She Gave her a strong kick in the kidney during the beating but the waif not even felt it because her motivation was jealousy. They became embroiled in the fight and Arya almost drown in water when the waif hustled and gripped her uder the liquid. Haltingly she pricked her with her needle and went away. As the waif tried to grab hold of her, she kicked out before fleeing again and tried tocut her with the sword but she coudn't. Serpents swam furiously between them. Conditions were equal and she needed a perk. Her eyes focused on the torch of the waif. In a lunge, she tossed it to water and everything turned black. She was scared. 

_I'm not scared. I'm no one._

The waif didn't saw death coming for her. 

_Valar Morghulis._

She left the small body floating. Serpents would use it to nest.

She moved quietly and quickly to Wenedeyne's room. The mummer took a lot of things from the poor Mercy when she died so she felt no blame for stealing her. Knowing that Wendeyne was in Izembaro's bed, she dressed and drying her body. She stole a bag an put inside it a lot of dresses and coins. There were a lot so she could survive in Westeros for a long time. She wore a grey dress and when she was almost ready to go she found a pelt of sorghum wine and a vial. She opened it carefully and smelled the content. Poison, the odour was unique. The only one who liked that wine was Lady Stork: Wenedeyne wanted her dead. 

_No._

Arya took the vial and poured a part within Wendeyne's glass jar of wine which was under a table. She took the rest for herself because she would need it and go. The poison will not kill Wendeyne but her face would suffer for a time.

She walked a long time. Someone was walkind behind her. A man. He was crushed by her against a wall. "You sent her to kill me."

"I didn't." The kindly man showed the truth with her face. "In fact it doesn't matter. A girl is alive, a girl is dead. She has a place here with faceless men if she wants it. She needs to say just one word to serve."

Her destiny depended just of one word. She aparted her sword. 

"A girl is Arya Stark of Winterfell. I'm going home."

"A man always knew it. Your sad grey eyes are yours. Your body, your mind and your heart is yours. Have a long life. Love someone. Be happy."He smiled sadly. "You can't serve with us and you just can go to our house if you want the gift but maybe we'll see again if you come to Braavos. Now I have to serve. _Valar Dohaeris."_

_"Valar Morghulis."_

He went aways and she finally could board the ship. Donnel was there helping an old man. She talked to him in common tongue with her best braavosi accent. "Excuse me, is this the Lady of Waters? My friend told me I can buy a passage to Westeros here. She talked with a young sailor which name is Donnel."

"I'm Donnel. Are you Mercy's friend?" He presented her to the captain and she got a cabin in the ship. He told her they were ready to leave the Rangman's Harbour but he wanted to wait for more passengers. Arya took her bag. "I give you twenty silver coins for my passage. I'll give you forty gold coins when we arrive if we go to Westeros right now."

That was most of her wealth but the ship departed minutes later.

 _A girl is going home,_ she thought allowing herself to feel her heart dancing of happiness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! This is a short chapter about Sansa in the Eyrie <3<3<3  
> I know most of people hate her (I hate her sometimes :3) but I think she is a better person now, at least a little.  
> I just love Sweetrobin, he needs love 

Alyane was talking with lady Anya Waynwood. She was dressed in a simple silk brocade decorated with pink and purple flowers. Her words were nice but her mind was far away from there. She was not happy with her new bastard status, even if people were kind to her. She would like to pay attention to the woman who talked about tournaments and knights and having real joy. She would like to admire the wonderful green gown the old woman was wearing. She would like to felt happy when she adulated her skills at sewing her own dress. Of course she did: she was not a simple bastard. She was Sansa Stark, elder daughter of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully.

 _This is because of Petyr_ , she thought. _I'm sure they would help me if I ask them but I trusted Petyr. I'm on a trouble._

Harrold Hardying appeared as a phantom beside them. He had a beautiful face, hair blond as sun. People said he was the portrait of a young Jon Arryn before of the war against the Targaryen king. 

Joffrey was blonde and beautiful too. A beautiful beast. _Tyrion Lannister had a horrible face but he was a good man. The Hound was horrible too and he was kind to me in his own twisted way. Beautiful faces gave me pain. Harry would do the same._

And there he stood, Harry the Heir himself; tall, handsome. "Lady Waynwood. Alyane. Lord Petyr told me that you are going to pray. He told me I can take you to the sept."

With time Sansa learnt that most of beautiful faces had secrets and hid darkness. She didn't want to be deceived again. But she was clever. She knew about the love of Harrold for Alyane Stone and she was decided to use him.

She smiled in a way that used to make people emotional because of her mellowness. They left lady Anya after a reverence. Emphatic, Harry was talking about tournaments, horses and eagles. _Smile at the boy. Touch him when you speak_. He was corteous and gallant, he wasn't the same person who rejected her because of her bastardy. The memory hurted her even if she was a Stark of Winterfell. Of course with time he fell in love with the beautiful, funny and smart Alayne Stone. When they arrived to the sept his conversation was drained. He stared at her.

"Lady Alayne." He tried to hold her hand but she hid it into her cloak. "The tourney is coming, the Gates of the Moon will receive a lot of knights. May I wear your favor?" 

"You may not. It is promised to another." She was not sure who as yet. "Please let me alone, I need to pray."

The sept was empty and silent, so she could sing to the seven faces. She prayed to the Father for justice, to the Mother for mercy. She went to the Maiden and the Crone, avoiding the Warrior and the Smith. She tried to do the same when she looked at the Stranger but he was the face of death. Maybe he leaded her own family to the other world. Her parents, her brothers, her sister. _They are dead, the are dead, they are dead_ , she cried and lighted a candle for him.

Her only live family were Jon and Robert. Jon was in the North but Robert was near. Very near: he ran into the sept crying. "Alayne, why didn't you visit me today?"

"I was praying, Sweetrobin. You can't run in a sacred place. I was ready to visit your room. You should be resting."

"I missed you Alayne. I miss you everyday." Robert said almost trembling. "I can't see you because of the horrible Harry. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him! He calls me cousin but he's waiting for me to die so he can take the Eyrie and marry you. You should marry me. We could sleep together and you could read me stories."

Her heart broken a little. Since lady Lysa's death he placed her in her heart as a mother and he didn't want to share her with another man. He was just a little boy thirsty of love who saw a rival in Harrold. Yes, the knight would like to be the owner of a big castle and the Eyrie but he was not able to hurt a little boy. 

"Sweetrobin, you must not say such things. You are the Lord of the Eyrie and Defender of the Vale. Harry will hold your banner someday and you must be gentle to him." She said and Robert wiped his nose. "You will defend the Vale and I will marry Harry as my father commands."

That was not a good idea to mention. His hands began to tremble and when she tried to calm him down a spark she had never seen lighted his eyes. It looked like hate. Suddenly he started to cry and he embraced her. She did the same, feeling the skinny little body against her. He had her nose dirty and his big eyes seemed bigger between his tears.

"Sweetrobin, please. Don't cry or my heart will break."She said cleaning his face with her own tissue. "Dry your tears and come with me. We'll go to eat a lemon cake together. Then we'll play with your puppets and I will be with you until night."

"Is that true, Alayne?" Will you spend your day with me?"

"I never lie, Sweetrobin." A lie. She smoothed his hair. It was pretty. "And that's nothing. The day of the tourney you'll have to talk to your bannermen as lord Royce does because you are the lord of the Eyrie."

"Really?" He sounded interested and she agreed.

"Of course. That's why I ask lord Robert to wear my favor." She gave him a long pink ribbon. "It is only for the person I like the most."

She needed Robert on her side. The lords and ladies of the Vale were wainting for his death but she was decided to change the spoilt child into a real lord, someone noble and intelligent. He would protect weak people as her own father did with his people. Also the way to Winterfell was full of obstacles so he would help her to sort it out. She must do it even if she had to be more intelligent than Petyr.

They spent the whole day together and they sleep early to deal with the tournament of the next day. That day she dressed a beautiful golden gown that constrasted beautifully with her dark hair. She admired herself in the mirror of Robert's room, happy of her beauty. He didn't accept a maid to dress him if she was not there. "Sweetrobin, you have to dress fast if you want me to come along with you to your podium." Her voice was firm, but gentle. "You know I can't sit beside you but I'll be near if you need me. If you are a good boy we'll eat together in the same table."

The truth was Myranda Royce demanded for Alayne's company during the feast. Robert was so happy with that idea so he was acting as a very good boy. When she and the maid finally finished with him, he wanted to wear her favor on his heart. The made gave her a falcon brooch and they laughted when they saw the contrast between the blue clothes and the feminine ribbon. _This might make people laugh too_ , she thought. "Our lord of the Eyrie and defender of the Vale is ready. My lord, please come with me." He laughed delighted and held her hand. Harry the Heir was waiting outside for them. He was like a ray of sunshine, a shining light. "My lord. My lady. Please let me escort you to the podium, Alayne."

He was clearly ignoring Robert, who was jealous of him. Maybe he was a child but that was not a reason to ignore his feelings, which were strong. "I'm sorry but my father asked me to escort lord Robert. I promised my favor to him and we'll spend this day together. Nevertheless I can dance with you at night." 

Robert touched his ribbon trying to disturb Harry, who looket at them surprised and mocking at the same time. "Why will you dance with him Alayne?"

 _To charm him._ "I have to dance with al of your bannermen my lord."

"But I won't be there! I'm eleven years old, I want to dance with you until the morning even if I have to listen at those horrible bards. I think I won't be scared of them if I'm with you."

Petyr and the lords were talking over the podium. "Don't care, Robert. I will take you to your room at the end of the feast. We'll take a musician and we'll dance before you bed."

"My beautiful daughter." Petyr kissed her forehead when they came tih the lords. "My lord. You look very well today."

Sansa hated him. Almost like she did with Joffrey. What kind of man was able to kill a little boy? Petyr. He gave Robert milk with debilitating potions. Sansa was always attending when the servants served his food to change it. She always tried to control his trembling because she didn't like the leeches. "Alayne told me that good lords are kind to their bannermen. She gave me her favor and I have to be worthy for her." Robert sat next to lord Nestor and thanked him for the falcon he gave him. He even said Myranda looked beautiful as a princess. 

_Myranda is a little vulgar_ , thought Sansa watching her dress, which showed most of her breast. _But she is kind to me._

"Sansa," whispered Petyr in her ear, "you have to spend your time with Harry the Heir. Ignore that wimpy boy."

"I'm sorry, father." She said modestly. "But I can't ignore Robert. He is very sick. Maester Helliweg told me he has a problem in his blood and he will die soon. I can't abandon a boy before his death." _You just want him dead to take the Vale. You want to sell me to Harry and ask for his help to take Winterfell. You want to dominate us_ _._ Petyr didn't know about her new frienship with the old Helliweg. He was so similar to maester Luwin, wise and kind. "That disease don't have a cure."

"I don't trust him. He may lie." Petyr wrinkle his nose. "Royce may try to betray me. And lady Waynwood is a real harpy."

She smiled. "Lord Royce depends of my father to conserve the seat in the Gates of the Moon. He is a wealking." Petyr allowed her go with a good guffaw. She enjoyed the tournament and the winner, Andar Royce, appointed her as queen of love and beauty. Sansa was very happy when he crowned her with the white roses and blue ribbons. Ser Andar wanted to escort her but she was a little afraid of Robert's reaction. However he seemed happy of having the favor of a queen and he was very kind to Andar when he asked for his permission. Then for Petyr's consent. 

The feast was wonderful. Sansa and Robert ate a lot, laughed a lot and they tasted lemon cakes. When he had to bed she went with him, the maid and a musician who interpreted a hilarious song in Robert's bedroom. They danced until he was tired. Sansa helped the maid to bed him and let the servants go. When they were alone he asked for a tale and she decided to tell him a real story. But she had to know just one thing before.

She kissed his forehead. "Sweetrobin, do you love me?"

"More than anyone else, Alayne."


	4. Chapter 4

A lot of orphans were playing, running and crying until night, when they were too tired and stopped noise. Even those dirty noses and the sticky hands Gendry did his best to take care of them so older children saw him as a hero and minor thought he was their father.

_I'm not even twenty and I have twenty kids._

Twenty two, in fact. He didn't like so much caring about children but he was lucky and had Willow and Jeyne Heddle. While he was working in the forge, both girls were responsible of the inn. A normal day for them consisted of children getting out of bed for some breakfast, dressing and eating together. Jeyne, Willow and Gendry stopped fights for food which was scarce.

Every day while he was working at the forge girls started cleaning and ordering rooms, after all the inn was big: three stories tall with turrets and chimneys made of white stone. It had a kitchen, a porch, and the cramped narrow staircase. The south wing was built upon pilings that rised over a hollow where Jeyne cultivated rosemary, sage and other herbs. They had weeded a lot of land before planting wheat, spuds and grain for their donkeys and his horse. A lot of hens were always stealing their seeds, hungry just like they were. War had no end and septons always found orphans on their journeys. At least they carried seeds and fabrics to dress the poor children. Those septons were all genuine believers in the Faith and they never tried a to convince him to worship the Seven again. 

Despite having food and a roof over his head, sometimes he woke up feeling pain in his body. It was not because of hard work, it was bitterness. Loneliness. Gendry knew he did not belong to that place and he was waiting for the call of the brotherhood. Sometimes he wanted to leave the inn and went to fight with them but he was the only man there. Even if Willow and Jeyne were brave and children were growing up they needed protection of soldiers and men that attacked women and children. He wouldn't abandon them. He did it and failed to the person who needed him the most.

Every day, at the moment when he openend his eyes the first thing he thought about was Arry, the orphan. Arya. He used to pray every night to the Lord of Light for her, but a little skinny girl could not have survived. The brotherhood tracked her for a long time, so he knew that the Hound lost her and she disappeared. They continued searching. After a year they left him in the inn to manufacture weapons. His hammer sang while he was thinking about what could happen. _Raped. Tortured. Dead_ He didn't know which option was the worse. _Sold to a brothel, sold as a slave, sold to an evil witch who ate her flesh and made potions with her blood_. Every blow of his hammer trembled of anger and sorrow. 

Willow came into the forge with food and beer. She knew he prefered to eat alone. He thanked her before she went. Dark hair, skinny as a sword. He closed his eyes. Sometimes he just imagined that Arya didn't dissapear and that she lived away of the problems of the kingdom with him to protect her of evilness. Maybe in a small village. If she were with him, they would have a house with a forge and an inner courtyard for her with one of those weirwoods she used to talk about when she was nostalgic. He would forge the best sword for her, slender like the one which was stolen or a longsword to terrorize bigger warriors. If she would be there, she would have taught him how to read and write, laughing of his attempts.

_People would love her_ , he thought smiling. _She was adorable._

But reality kicked him. He left the hammer. If Arya were alive, she would be with her mother. Lady Stoneheart. Catelyn Tully. If she had been alive, she would have lived with her or wed a man, because she would be fourteen or fifteen. Her mother wouldn't let her play with swords like a lowborn. And instead of that he knew how to read because of brotherhood memebers which needed him to intercept messages and to tell them how everything was. Gendry read slowly but he knew all the letters and he even could write. He tried to teach that to children, Willow and Jeyne but he had no results.

Food was cold. Jeyne was wonderful at cooking but he always started to think and left it until he remembered he had to eat. Cold stew again. He ate reluctantly and drank the beer. Suddenly, Jeyne appeared. "Gendry, is Lem Lemoncloak! He came to see you!"

She held his hand and they ran out of the forge. He felt very uncomfortable when Lem Lemoncloak, Likely Luke and Notch saw him smiling like idiots. They were drinking the wine reserved for hosts. Gendry welcomed them with a grunt and indicated to ragged children hiding with crossbows under the stairs and tables. They seemed scared of men until Notch handed a bag to Jeyne. It was full of tarts, pies and honeycakes. "I think is enough for your children. Go and eat outside: weather is delicious".

Jeyne understood and she took children. Gendry knew she didn't like to be removed of important convesations but she was mor obedient than her sister.

Lem took off the Hound's helmet. "Where is your bear? Last time I saw you, you were a man. You look like a grumpy boy."

"Most of vagrants prowling around the inn wear beard. One tried to steal a little girl at night so I shave to be recognized. Why are you here?"

"Lady Stoneheart is asking for the brotherhood members." Said Lem shaking his head. "It's for something important. Is here the woman of Tarth?"

"She was here days ago. She is going to the south. Why is Lady Stoneheart asking for us?"

"We'll assault The Twins, boy! Frey is alone with his wifes and his soldiers are far away, with their allies." Notch drank his wine. "She wants a revenge of the Red Wedding."

"That sounds... like a lot of work." Gendry said frowning. "We are outlaws. We are like ten or twelve men. This will take several weeks. Months, maybe years."

"Don't care about that, boy! People hate the old Frey and they will do everything to defeat them. Lord Tully was stubborn but not a fool." Lem stared at him. "Walder Frey is hated by all, even his family. He'll marry a little girl, she is thirteen or fourteen. We'll save her! Harwin knows about horses and you'll forge our swords. Your girls will be well."

"They are not my girls, Lem. I protect them, just as Lady Stoneheart told me. Children too, they lost their families at war."

Lem smiled. "Notch and Luke will replace you. We need you, Gendry. A good blacksmith is worth his weight in gold. Youcan trust them, Luke and Notch will protect the orphans and of course they'll help the girls with work. Also I will find a septon, I swear."

Gendry nodded to him. He was not sure but his lady called him and he was not able to refuse. He decided to go soon, at night. He had to go alone because Lem mounted his horse to looking for the big woman. The worst part was talking to Jeyne and Willow. Jeyne cried as a baby and Willow had an unusual facial expression. She followed him going upstairs when he went to pack his clothes. She closed the door. "Will you really go?"

"Yes."

"We need you."

"Likely Luke will stay here with Notch. You'll be safe with them." He walked to the door and opened it. "They know how to fight and how to work. Lem Lemoncloak will send a septon."

He went to the forge, where his hammer and a sword were waiting for him and for that moment. Willow appeared and stopped him. "Gendry, please don't leave us. I don't wanna beg, you know what I feel. " She whispered into his ear. "We should marry and care about children together. Please."

He knew it but he didn't expect that she would talk about it. "Willow, I'm sorry but I'm not in love with you. You know I admire you and you can count on me for everything but I'm not the person you need. I must go. I don't belong here."

Her face, usually vibrant and commanding, transoformed almost instantaneously to stone. She didn't talk to him anymore and he felt sad for her. _If I don't tell her the truth she will be hurt_ , he thought sadly. He got his things together and left the forge to meet the brotherhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The truth is I love Gendry with my heart and I ship him with Arya so much 😍😍😍  
> Suck it Robert Baratheon, Gendry has 22 kids, more than 16 😂😂😂


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something about Sansa before the real action ❤❤❤

Sansa thought that convincing Robert would be difficult but it was not. He was so happy because she was not a bastard who had to wed Harrold. "Sweetrobin. You have to swear you won't speak except if I ask you." She whispered to his ear. "Lord Baelish was afraid of traitors. Can you understand?"

"Yes," he said, "I swear. I will protect you. Traitors will fly out the Moon Door."

Robert quite simple trusted her. Sansa had the place of his mother in his little heart since she was dead. _I will be Sansa Stark again. I won't marry Harry, I don't love him._ She left Robert sleeping.

In her room, the maids gave her a beautiful gown and brushed her dyed hair. The dye was dissapearing, for an unbiased observer her hair would be brown, with soft waves in separate auburn locks. The maids crowned her with a wreath of white roses which just accentuated the impression. The colors of the crown were blue and white but it made her remember the kind Margaery, the young rose of Highgarden. _She is lucky. She married a good boy. Tommen is good, he is not like Joffrey._

Dressed with a beautiful gown she went to the hall, Harry accompanied her. He was always near of her, he didn't like her before but she made him his admirer. He was there when she walked alone in the garden. When she read for the old ladies. Always. Always looking at her body, like trying to imagine her naked. She had read the word _lust_ several times before but in that moment she understood the meaning.

"My lady, this night any star can be compared to your radiance. You are the most beautiful woman in this castle." He said kissing her hand.

Then, in the hall she sat near of the dais in her place of honor. Because she was a bastard. _I'm not a bastar,_ she thought. _My father was Eddard Stark and my mother Catelyn Tully. But they are dead._

She trembled as a leaf. The fire was shining near of her hair, and Harry was watching her with a sweet smile. He was like a hero, like the one who stole the heart of the Maiden. She smiled to him. She couldn't forget his cruel words when they met for first time and his cold eyes. He was cruel. The world was cruel too and most of people did not even know they hurted with their scorn. She thought in Jon Snow. he was a bastard, like Alayne Stone. She was sure now, he felt very bad like she felt when Harry said she was not enough for him. A single tear fell. Jon suffered the taint of being bastard since he was a child. _Gods, forgive me. I was cruel. Even if I don't want to be I was. I rejected and despised him and now I'm a bastard._

Jon Snow was her only brother. Robb, Bran and Rickon were dead. Arya was dead too. Jon had her own blood in his veins, no matter what her mother thought when she was alive. _Mother was angry with father. She felt angry because my father loved another woman._

She dried her tear and started to talk with her companions. The feast exceeded her expectations. Seventy dishes were served and of course she just tasted a mouthfull of each one. The table was laid loaded with salmon from the rivers, legs of mutton and pork, crabs and oysters. Large dishes of yellow cream, that trembled with the least shake of the table had designed on their smooth surface the initials of the lords. There was a swan in his plumage over almond milk. Massive cheeses, fruits, capons and ducks. And best of all, Lord Nestor's cooks prepared a splendid lemon cake, ten feet tall. Harps, zithers and lutes. Petyr smiled to her because she was beautiful. She smile to him too but the anger corroded her. Why no one saw his real face? He was the master and the head of the Vale, the lord of all.

When the last meal had been cleared the tables were lifted from their trestles for dancing. Lymond Lynderly was her first partner. Young knights flocked around her, vying for her favor. Andrew Tollett, ser Byron, ser Roland Waynwood. A Royce, three of the Sunderland. She was like a delicate flower dancing with the wind. 

Harry went to her for a dance. They moved like two swans in the cold water and she reminded the first time they danced together. He talked about her two daughters, bastards. And about one of their mothers who was fat. _If I marry him I'll have to stand a lot of children, at least one by year._ She ignored the evil thoughts, he smiled to her. _When he smiles he has the most beautiful face. How many girls were seduced by him?_ She touched his face. "You are audacious, my lady," he whispered near of her mouth.

She ignored him. "I'm very impressed, you were very brave at the tournament today. You are a great knight." _Please_ , she prayed, _let him think I'm beautiful._ She shaked her head, aware of her beautiful hair.

"I would like to win to make you a queen, but I'm not the only one who knows you are the most beautiful woman here."

"Most of the knights have a lady," she said.

Harry almost stumble. He laughedout loud, cruel. "Yes. Even our little lord. You chose him over me? I wanted your favor."

"Robert lost his mother. He is sad and he needs a good friend."

"You have a heart of gold. I'll be the happiest man very soon." He was interrupted by Petyr who wanted to dance with her. Sansa saw him moving away to talk with other girls.

Petyr whispered to her ear. "Harry is completely charmed. My daughter is very intelligent. You and I will rule all this place." She blushed. She didn't like his proximity, even if he used to be her savior. 

After dancing with Petyr, lord Royce asked her for a dance. He was a barrel chested man, with a short beard. She was a little scared of his face but he was gentle and nice to Alyane. "I need to talk with you, my lord."

He looked at her eyes. "You can talk to me, sweetling."

"This is different," she pleaded, "no one may know. Even my father or your family. Robert and maester Helliweg have something to tell you. Is extremely important."

She thought he was going to deny her petition but he moved his head and accepted. He said they were going to talk on the morning. "I'll call you tomorrow." He left her and then he danced with lady Waynwood so Sansa decided to went back to her room. She said she was feeling bad and Harrold took her to the room and said goodbye with a kiss on her cheek. Her maids were waiting for her with the wooden tub ready. They left her alone and she had a bath but in the moment of dying her hair she dropped the tint. She scrubbed her hair until the auburn appeared, brilliant as a flame. She didn't remember the red was so shiny.

That night she slept just a little. Her maid knocked the door to awake her and she dressed fast with a blue dress and a veil. Lord Nestor will wait for her at the library, said the girl. She seemed like her mother. Lord Nestor knew her mother and her grandfather. She ran to Robert's room and found him taking his breakfast. "You are here, S...Alayne!" he screamed happy. "Do you want a lemon cake?"

She accepted and the maids went out of the room. She tried to eat a piece of cake but she was so nervous. "Sweetrobin," she said sweetly and he stared at her, "I need you to be very brave today. We have to talk with lord Nestor."

"I won't talk to him." He tried to embrace her. "I don't like him. He tried to wed my mother but she said he was ugly and bad and mean like a rock."

It would be difficult. "Don't you love me, Sweetrobin? I need your help because if I don't say lord Nestor that I'm your cousin I will have to wed Harry. I don't wanna be his wife. I'm scared." 

The name of the knight was the only thing he needed to jump out of his bed. Sansa gave him a velvet doublet and hustled his little body to the partition. "I will protect you, I swear. Mom always told me a woman has to wed the man she loves."

"Do you remember your mother, Sweetrobin?"

"I do. She was pretty until my father died. She had long hair, like mine."

She took of her veil. "Like mine too."

He opened his eyes. "You look like my mom! Like my aunt Catelyn, she visited us in the Eyrie, she went with the evil dwarf. I wanted to see him flying but I couldn't. He scared me. Mom told me he killed my father."

She covered her head again. "Robert, will you talk to lord Nestor? He must know that I'm your cousin, that's the only way he would help me. You are my only hope."

The old Robert woudn't move a finger to help her but now he was a good boy. He thought he was a knight like men of the songs and tales. "Don't be scared, Alayne. I'm ser Robert of the Eyrie, the winged knight. I am your protector." He grabbed her hand and they walked to the library where she was interrogated. "How can we know that you are honest?

Royce kept his promise: he talked to her. Maester Helliweg and Robert were there. The lords declarant were there too, and they stared at her as a criminal. The maester was near of Robert, who seemed nervous between those big lords. _Please, don't cry. Don't scream._ "Is not easy to believe," she said with her sweetest voice, "but I had no option. Cersei Lannister kept me as a prisioner in King's Landing and lord Baelish had to lie to you. That was the only way to keep us safe and sound."

"Petyr loves lying. He bought the debts of my deceased husband to rule my house." Her face, usually fair with a distinct air of nobility got dark and angry. "But that's not the point of this conversation. How can we know if you are Sansa Stark? People know you as Alayne Stone."

"She is not lying!" screamed Robert. "The queen is a bad woman! They wanted her to wed the dwarf who killed my father! They murdered her family! They killed my aunt, the sister of my mother!"

"My young lord, please keep the calm." Yohn Royce's voice was so soft to him. "We must investigate, she is not innocent but she is not culpable until we found some evidence."

"Don't give me orders!" he screeched. "She is Sansa Stark, my cousin. If someone tries to hurt her I'll make him fly! The falcons will eat his eyes!"

He began to tremble. The maester tried to take his hand and giving him something but he ran to Sansa. She grabbed his hands until he stopped moving. 

"Maester Helliweg, our young lord needs to rest," said lady Anya. "He's tired."

"No!" screamed Robert. "I'm you lord! Is an order! You have to obbey me!"

"You are sick. You need some food and sleeping." The maester took him away and Sansa felt guilty. She tried to use a child for her own benefit. She tried again. "Lord Yohn, we knew each other before of this situation. You have a son, Waymar."

"That's something that all know."

"He was a man of the Wall. You took him to Winterfell years ago and Eddard Stark gave a fest for you. The day you met him you were wearing the bronze armor, with thousands of runes" She took of her veil. "You said that I had the same face of my mother and her hair. Then, my sister Arya threw me a lot of food with her spoon and she stole your beer."

"Impossible..." Bronze Yohn was surprised.

"Waymar's eyes were grey and his hair was dark. He asked me if I could sing a song for him and he played the harp for us. You told my father that my voice sounded like a bird. And we met time ago in the last tournament of the KIng Robert, I know you saw him dying because of the wild pig."

"You look like your mother and lady Lysa," he walked to her and knelt down. "Just the people with Tully blood have auburn hair, just like a blaze. Everything is true. About the castles, about your father... about my son."

Bronze Yohn said he will help her. He was so emotional because of the things he said about his dead son. Lady Anya had a nervous expression. "What will we do with Petyr? He lied. He told us the only alive Stark was a bastard of Eddard Stark. Jon Snow, a crow. Petyr deserves punishment."

"My lady," begged Sansa, "he lied because he was scared of my destiny. Joffrey Baratheon was obssesed with me and he said... he said he was going to... he wanted to assault me. He said that I was going to have his bastards, even if I had a husband. He was so brutal, Petyr rescued me when he had the possibility."

"Did he murder the king to rescue you?"

"No. The assasin was Tyrion Lannister, I'm sure."

"You had to wed him. Did you...?" Bronze Yohn's face got red. "Did he touch you?"

"No, my lord. He didn't try to do it. I'm a maiden"

"Forget that Bronze," said lady Anya, "that is not a conversation for men. I will talk to the old women about it."

"Fine."

"But we have a problem. Sansa Stark can't wed Harry. She is the heir of Winterfell and Harry is just a knight," the old lord Redfort opened his small eyes.

"He is part of the Arryn," said angrily lady Waynwood, "many girls would like to marry him. He is brave and handsome. What do you say, sweetling?"

Sansa hid her face. "Don't attack her. She is shy," smiled lord Nestor. "But you understand she must wed a high lord. The only man who deserves her is Robert Arryn. They had to get wed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter close Sansa's moments for this time. Wedding Sweetrobin sounds terrible but contracts are not always eternal... or maybe they are 🤯🤯🤯🤯  
> I think Sansa should miss Jon a lot because even if she didn't like him, he was a familiar face, an now she is a bastard so she is feeling the same things Jon felt. Not like the TV show, she was just... thankful?? I don't know, but that plot was lost.


	6. 6

Arya traveled for a long time in the Lady of the Rivers until the ship arrived in Westeros. The Saltpans coast was very different and she had to rub her eyes. War and time changed it. Many buildings were burned like the last time she was there but the harbour was working. There were a lot of soldiers wearing the red cloak of the house Lannister. 

She left Braavos with no remorse because her unfinished work in the House of Black and White. She had learn enough to give the gift when she wanted to do it, where she wanted to do it, to the person who she desire. Probably most of the people of her list were dead but she didn't know. The queen was alive: maybe others were alive too.

While she was on the ship she tried to prectice some things she needed: the sweet smile of her sister and her mother's airs and graces. She was very clean and nice to people. She kept her clean laundry in a small armchair of her cabin, she was no rude, she combed her hair a hundred times until it shone. She wasn't accustomed to control her impulses or to be a nice person. She never worried about her face and garments. Her temperament as a storm and she suffered until she learnt to control it.

_I am wine hiding poison._

Under the sweet face she was the little wolf girl. Everyday she used to listen when sailors and passengers talked, learning three new things. Daenerys Targaryen had real dragons and Aegon Targaryen was alive, they wanted to rule Westeros again. Tywin Lannister was dead and lord Tyrell had dispossessed herof almost everything she ever had. Arya Stark escaped from a castle where her husband was the joke of other lords.

An hour after seeing Saltpans the Lady of the Rivers arrived in the main pier. Arya did not want to waste her time but most of the peoplewho accompanied her wanted to say goodbye to the graceful maiden who stole their heart. Donnel particularly sweared he will look for Mercy in Braavos and Arya felt sad for him. He hoped to find her and she didn't want to hurt him saying that the little mummer was dead. She gave the coins she promised to the captain and then she looked for an inn. She paid a room and spent the afternoon buying some things with Wendeyne's coins. _These are my coins now._ Food, clothes to ride a horse, a map. When she finished she had less coins but some things that were hers. She didn't remember the last time she bought something for her.

Arya went to her room trying to went unnoticed. The door was locked, the small mirror cleaned. She tried a dress: she was small but at least she was not skin and bones. Bandaging her chest was easy and she would seem easily like a boy. That was convenient. A rich beauty like Sansa would be a problem. By the way, what would she say about the dress?

_You ought to marry Hodor, you're just like him, stupid and hairy and ugly! Even if you wear a dress you still look ugly!_

Her heart skipped a few beats.

 _She was a child_ , she tought. _She was an angry sad little girl._

The map was studied for a long time. At night she went to eat and she sat in a table which was into the wall opening. She wanted to hear what men said. Most of them with the emblems of the lion or two blue towers were talking so loud. She listened about a Hound, who was with a band of outlaws burning and stealing everything he could. And killing every Frey soldier he could. The knight of Saltpants hid but he was forced to reconstruct it. 

In fact Arya didn't believe it. The Hound didn't survive, she was sure he was wounded. That way of acting was not his. The Hound was a lone wolf -a lone hound! He would never accept the company of people, even outlaws. Before seeing Lannister and Frey soldiers she wanted a chance to take a break but she got angry and decided to act. It became very difficult for her to climb the stairs until her room without running but she did. She wore her trousers and hid her Needleunder her cloak. Her scarce possesions were packed and she went out of the inn after taking food from a table. Saltpans was the seat of the house Cox so she knew there were many horses in the stables of the lord. She had enough coins to buy one but she decided to save them and steal a courser.

While she was walking to the small wall of the castle she thought about the doors. How could she defeat that obstacle? She imagined her climbing a wall or dressing as a maid but when she finally arrived she saw servants moving bales of hay from a cart in front of the main door. She imitated them and went unnoticed. He hid and eagerly awaited the perfect moment.

The stables were empty after an hour. She examined some horses: inflammations and expresionless eyes showed her they were unfit for riding a long time. She was examining one of them when a deep voive interrupted her. "Boy, my horse is dirty. Is covered in mug," he yelled, "clean my saddle! It has to shine or I'll whip you!"

A Frey. Arwood Frey. He had the same face of his father, small petty eyes and a puckered mouth. "Yes, m'lord." 

_M'lord_ , an important detail she didn't forget.

The sweet voice made him staring at her. "You are a girl," he said surprised, "a pretty one. What are you doing here?"

"I work, m'lord."

She pretended she had problems with the head collar and reins. Arnwood held her hand. He caressed her fingers, not delicate as the fingers of a lady but sweet enough. Without calluses. "You are too delicate to work with war horses."

"I don't like other trades offered to girls here, m'lord." She tried not to laugh and looked away. "I prefer working with animals but my dream is to work with children. I love them, that's why my faith is with the Maiden and the Mother."

A nubile maiden just for him. Untouched. Arwood licked his lips and whispered while she was looking down. To her _Needle_. When he tried to touch her, she stabbed his heart. _Valar Morghulis_ , she whispered to him while his neck was being cutted.

She cleaned her sword in the tunic of the dead man. The horse was waiting to be relieved of the saddle. It was a big stallion but she could ride. The saddle was magnificent and she found harnesses and hunting weapons and small saddlebags. She didn't ride, she just went to the main door as a groom and men did not notice the small boy. 

The body was going to be found soon so she mounted the horse and rode away until she found the Trident. She just had to follow the river a few weeks. That night she rode for hours with the help of the map. When she got tired she made a shelter for the stallion with leaves and branches, so no one would see a horse there. Then she climbed a tree and tied herself with her belt.

In her dreams she was a wolf with big claws like knives surrounded by cubs, grey and brown. They walked under the moon. She woke tired. In Braavos she used to dream about wolves but she always tried to hide it to the kindly man. Her body was tense, so she jumped out of the tree and let the horse free to pasture. She ate a slice of bread and revised the saddlebags. Hunting weapons, a horn and surprisingly a book of the Seven. Saddling the horse she whistled a braavosi song to feel less alone and she rode, always following the river.

Arriving to the Twins took her several weeks. The horse was strong but the weather didn't help them. When she ate all the food there was nothing, so she had to hunt some animals and collect some fruits when she could.Everything was devastated by soldiers and there were no people in burned villages. On the other hand she prefered to avoid outlaws and bandits before fight them and waste her energy, even if she had time. She rode and rode until the stone bridge between the castles standing on a margin of the Green Fork. 

Before leaving the forest she went to the river and bathed. After washed herself from her head to heel she dressed with a blouse and a long skirt. The skirt made her movements slower but she looked like a nice honest maiden in search of a decent work. Thinking about it made her realize about the stallion, it was so good for a simple peasant because of his sumptuous harnesses. While the horse pastured between the trees she decided which harnesses hide. The mouthpiece was left aside but the silver briddles were replaced for a simple rope. The sadlle was dismantled and she scratched in front of the highest spruce to hid those thing, maybe she would need them later. The trees nex to the spruce were marked. She wanted to ride but she was a good rider and a folk would never ride a horse like her so she held the briddles and walked next to the horse until she saw an apple orchard.

The bridge was supposed to be guarded by people in the Water Tower. It was empty for some reason and the impression of loneliness was so strong. Nevertheless, she approached to the castle which was more alive than she saw at first time: there were cows and pigs, carts full of fruits and vegetables and enormous wine barrels. Painfully the memory of the day before the king and his family arrived to Winterfell. 

_I used to have a family._

She ignored the hole in her heart and the pain and saw a girl who tried to move a big basket without results. She had a long blonde hair, a sweet smile and she talked a lot so Arya chose her. "The Seven blessed us with a beautiful day." Arya smiled the best she could to the girl. "May I ask you the name of this castle? I lost my map and I don't know where to go."

"We are in the Twins," answered the girl nicely, "this is Walder Frey's castle. Are you lost? Do you need help?" She said when she procesed Arya's words.

"Unfortunately. My willage was devastated by outlaws when I was visiting my aunt. She works in a castle and we didn't know until it was too late." Arya whispered quietly telling her the story she prepared. "My parents, my brothers, our animals... Everything. Those outlaws killed them."

Probably the peasant saw the need for protection behind the tears in her eyes. In fact it worked because the story was not so false. "Oh, you poor thing. Can you see that man? The one dressed in purple. He is our understeward, if you want to work here you need his approval. You are lucky, lord Frey is gonna wed a girl and we have not so many servants. We need more people to serve him."

She acted very thankful when the girl went with her to talk with the understeward. He talked to her a bit roughly but he seemed as a fair man. At least his personality at first was not like Weese's. She coudn't be a small rat again. "Why didn't stay with your aunt? How did you get this stallion?" he said.

 _Smart old man,_ she thought. "My aunt is the maid of a very important lady. Unfortunately she couldn't afford more people in her castle. My aunt gave me most of her coins and she sewed some clothes for me. Her lady was very kind to me and she gave some food to survive for a time."

"Who is that lady?"

"Lady Ravella Smallwood, of Acorn Hall. Is a big house with stone curtain walls and a large oak keep. She is very kind but I didn't want to abuse of her friendliness, specially when she has some difficulties to keep her people. She doesn't need more servants because her daughter Carellen is far away of her home and her husband is on battlefield."

She did it. The man started to look at her pleasantly because it was not a lie. Understewards knew all of important families. "Is terrifying thinking a child like you" - sostuvo su mirada casi filialmente -. "You have to thank the Father you are not dead by outlaws. War made people and forests dangerous. How old are you?"

"Five-and-ten." she wasted a long time counting on her fingers because she wasn't sure. "The Maiden helped me to keep my chastity. I have been into the forest for weeks, that made me strong. I wanna work. I can help those girls."

"I need some people in the kitchens. There's not so much people to serve here. Frey family is very big, they are even more than the servants. I am the understeward of this castle but I have to work as a slave sometimes so you may stay here if your behavior is proper. What's your name?"

"Nan," she lied using one of her old names.

"I'm Willum, but people call me Greyhead. Lancel," he yelled to a small man, "the horse of this girl needs some water and a place on the stables. Nan, follow me. Take a basket of fruits. We'll go to the kitchens and we'll talk about your new life."

Arya took a basket. It was very heavy to lift but it didn't matter. In the kitchen she was presented to the other women and then Greyhead commanded her to leave her things in the place where women slept. She did it and following him to a big room where some washerwomen and needlewomen worked. He presented her to an old woman who ruled the place and left them. The oldster decided she had to sort garments, usable or destroyed. Then she had to give the usable clothes to washerwomen and help needlewomen to repair the rest.

Two hours were spent in the first task, hundreds and hundreds of petticoats, doublets, skirts, tunics, briefs... Women took advange of that to ask Nan about her family, her faith, the things she liked, if there was a handsome lad in her mind. She answered as she could and started to sew. Her needlework was not so good but at least she could sew some snags, iron delicate clothes and 

She almost could hear the septa Mordane when she saw a small girl with a precious embroidered dress. She bit her lip. _You'll never do it as well as she can._ _Sansa would hide in a castle, as a maid or a cupbearer_ , she told herself with courage. _She wouldn't have hard tasks because_ _she is beautiful and nice. But our world is dangerous for beautiful girls. Lords abuse of lonely girls. Why am I saying this? She is dead!_ She knew that Sansa dissapeared because in Saltpans most of people liked to talk about the court. _A girl like Sansa would die easily. She was so innocent, I'm sure she is dead. I don't want her dead,_ Arya prayed to the Old Gods. _She just wanted to wed a prince and have a big family. A son with blue eyes. I miss her. I miss my brothers and father and mother. I don't want them dead._

She didn't realize she was crying until women talked to her showing their sympathy. Of course they thought she was crying for her village. She accepted their words. When they finish most of their work the oldster told them they could rest and eat in the kitchen. Arya ate with the blonde girl who received her at morning. She wanted some information. Men were far away, fighting. There were not so much soldiers but no one tried to disturb the Lord of the Crossing, except outlaws. But that was not rare. In search of allies lord Wader promised and wed his daughters to other lords and looked for brides. For him and his sons. By the way, he and his family stayed together in one of the castles because they were repairing the other for their future guests.

A scullery maid saw her talking and she asked her for help. She said goodbye to her friend and accompanied the woman to collect some medicinal herbs for an indusion. One of the young lords constantly suffered nauseas and pain. She taught her how to prepare it. "You'll prepare one every day for him. Learn the road to his room."

Of course that woman felt she had the authority to giver orders to the new girl. At least the road was long but straight. They knocked the door and an aphatetic _"may in"_ received them. She stared at the boy who was nothing less than Elmar, the small boy who accompanied her when she was Bolton's cuperbearer. She tried to be unnoticed. "Go away," he said witouth looking at them. "I don't want nosies in my room."

He didn't recognize her because he didn't saw her face. Of course, she grew up. _Of course, we are just scullery maids._ _He wouldn't humbled himself, a proud noble._ He was short and feeble, his voice was the same strident voice. And without a doubt he was selfish as always. _I wish your princess is dead_ , she screamed internally. She was angry because of the horrible things he told her when she tried to trust him.

"I don't like this boy," said the woman when they were in the corridor. "Sadly for you we give these task to new maids but you have to thank the Seven you don't have to clean the chamber pots. Those things smell like shit."

"Is he always like this? Is he dangerous?"

"Of course he isn't, he can't move an arm without fainting." she smiled with irony, like she enyojed it. "He wasn't like that. He used to be a unpleasant but since his princess is married he is almost a nightmare. He yells and throw things but nothing more at least."

"Who was that girl?" she was curious because Elmar always blew his own trumpet saying he was going to wed a real princess. Then he cried like a baby because his father broke the engagement. 

"She was the daughter of the hand of the king Robert Baratheon. Maybe you can't remember him, the fat one. His brother was proclaimed King in the North and his mother, a Tully, negotiated marriage contracts with lord Walder. Our boy was happy because his sister, lady Stark, was betrothed to him until her brother married another woman and broke the promise. It was a disaster! The Stark girl was married to a Bolton." She stopped before the door of the kitchen. "She is is lost. His husband mistreated her and she fled. Maybe she is dead. The young lord thinks she would never try to escape of him and he suffers because this house support the house of Bolton."

 _How many men are relationed with me_ _? These people are crazy, all of them,_ she thought angry and surprised at the same time. _My mother wouldn't promise my hand. She knew I am not that kind of person. Impossible._

But it was true. The face of the woman didn't lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think is funny how Elmar cried for his princess without knowing she was next to him. Literally.


	7. Chapter 7

The house Tyrell, the High Sparrow, the peasants. They were her enemies, enemies of Cersei Lannister. Enemies of the queen. She wanted to punish them, she couldn't forget the leering and jeering crowds that were there just to enjoy her pain. The walk of atonement. She was mad about it. She had a special punisment for the septas who tried to destroy her beauty: they were going to be flayed, their fingers eaten by dogs. She will order her servants to impale them naked over the highest walls of the castle to show their decrepit bodies. Septa Unella, septa Scolera,septa Moelle... All the septas. Cersei drank his wine. It taste was so strong, so warm, so invigorating. Suddenly she reminded Robert. She hated him. She hated him even if he was dead. So many years. She hated him but she understood him for first time in her life. Robert had his carnal pleasures exceeded because he couldn't control his culpability, the memories of the Stark harlot and the pressure of the realm. _Robert Baratheon was a coward,_ she thought furious. _Even if he was the brave warrior who murdered Rhaegar, he was a coward. I am not like him, I was born to be a queen. The most powerful. Casterly Rock is mine. Westeros is mine. No one will ever set me aside again. There is no man who can tame me._

Wine was comforting. The thought of her trial made her sick. Despite her guard, Strong, she felt restless. Worried. The possibility of loosing... No, she knew he was going to win for her. Only his reddened eyes, surrounded by pale bluish flesh were enough to terrorize her enemies. But she still nervous. Her beauty was questioned by clumsy lustful men and ignorant tavern women, they felt free to vilify her. Why did they do it? She was their queen, a noble. They were just plebeiants but they injured her. She would never forget how Qyburn cured her feet, which were badly injured. That was so humilliant, specially when she knew that peasants dedired her. The whores of the city dyed their hair with yellow tint and walked naked with banners of lions while men threw them some coins. The council was useless and the memebers didn't protect their queen. Cowards. They didn't tell her about the son of Rhaegar who was alive, who was disposed to stole her throne. And there was the the dragon whore.They said they desired to keep safe Tommen and the realm but they couldn't protect him. And they didn't let her protect her son. 

In fact it didn't matter. Those problems were far away, crossing the Narrow Sea. Her real problem was Margaery Tyrell, young and beautiful. _No, she isn't more beautiful than me. She has the same eyes of peasants and her body is too skinny. Her only advantage over me is that she is young and carefree. She has no concern about anything, is just a child._ Yes, she wasn't more beautiful. Cersei was the light of Westeros, she was just insecure because of the humiliation she suffered. Everything was because of Margaery, Cersei would like to torture her until death. Unfortenately the judgement of the Tyrell whore was going to be a common judgement, no gods. And she was under the arm of Tarly, but she was decided to punish her even if both had to die. _She will die. I won't._

The door was knocked: Qyburn, with an exhausted old face brought to her many scrolls. He had investigated every room in the castle in search of wildfire. The Alchemists' Guild were producing more substance for their queen.

They had enough fire for burning a kingdom. "We used a lot of wildfire in the war but this will burn very well." His eyes were tired but they shone like dark knives. "I gave a feast for the head of the order in the name of the queen and sent him a present, a chalice with the lion. Hallyne has not received visits from high court officials since the reign of the Mad King. He will do what you want, my queen."

"Well. You are wise. He will serve us if he is satisfied." A maid appeared with some wine for her. Jocelyn, with her eyes full of tears. Annoying, but inside her she was so pleased to see someone who cared about her. Cersei wasn't allowed to see people. How long did she wait to see her son? Two months, maybe three. Just the maid and Qyburn were allowed to visit her. She haven't seen Jaime or Tommen. She sorely desired to see her son but she was locked as an animal and she couldn't visit him until the hour before her judgement. She didn't want to wait. "Tell to the high septon I'm ready to redeem myself. He must know that my wounded body is healed." Jocelyn went away while she talked to Qyburn. "Go there as my envoy and told him that ser Strong will protect my honor. And send some sacks of wheat for his crap. They will know my goodness."

Qyburn obeyed. When he left her she poured wine in her glass and bit a walnut from a bowl of glass. _I am a queen but I live like an animal,_ she thought. But it didn't matter. All the people who ridiculized her had to pay a high price. Yes, they were going to know her goodness. The only thing that mattered to her in that moment was meeting her son. She did not even care about her short hair, she was going to wear something magnificent and her Tommen wouldn't be sad or ashamed. Her hair was short but she was the most beautiful woman in Westeros, yes, she was. There were no woman who could compare to her. She doubted of her beauty because of the walk of atonement. Those plebs laughed of her but they did it because they wanted her. They desired her in their beds but that was impossible for them. Yes, her belly was not the belly of a young girl but it still smooth, her feet and hands were small and showed she was noble and not a farmer, her eyes were green stars. She just needed a veil to cover her head. She took a long time to dress and when she was ready the messenger of the high sparrow arrived. Lancel. She was furious but she managed to contain herself and avoided to spit his aged face. Agreeding with all of his words she waited until he told her she had the permission of the high septon to visit Tommen. The only thing she was waiting to listen.

Tommen were waiting for her in his room. He didn't left it since the day of her punishment, delegating his authority in his councillors. He was sweet and innocent. That was not good for him, the only solution was disposing them and rule until his adulthood, he had to grow up. But he grew a lot those months, he was taller and his eyes had a strange expression of sadness. He was scared and very ashamed, he thought he could do something more to help her. Crying as a child he asked for her mercy and forgiveness. He kissed her hand and swore he was going to talk to the high septon and reestablish her honor. And the honor of Margaery. Margaery. Always Margaery. She wanted to sort him out but she didn't. It could be precipitated. She acted precipitated before and that was the reason of her public humiliation. The whore was slurping his brains. No more foolishness, that was the moment to act like her father. She was going to expel the bootlickers and traitors, the councillors. The pride wouldn't blind her again.

Cersei hold her son for a long time: her judgement was going to be public, another mortification. The sept of Baelor was open for the peasants and plebs, those who wanted to made fun of her. No. Not again. Beautiful dresses were her shield between her body and the crowd of peasants. They said her body was like the one of a common woman but they didn't know how much she suffered in the punishment cell where septas take the food out of her mouth, interrogating her until she was exhausted. No, they didn't know the reason of the destruction of her body, which was unrecognizable considering the abuse. Just by cause of Qyburn and Jocelyn her cheeks were rosy and her chest was round again. Yes, she was a splendid woman again and she was going to defeat the sardonic faces.

After the trial, Margaery was going to be judged. Next day. The entrance was not allowed to Tommen, who was too young for it. The councillors begged him to stay and the high septon agreed considerign his mother and wife were involved. Secretly, Cersei ordered Qyburn to contract a group of mercenaries, just if Tommen had a stupid idea. They were looking for him dressed like servants.

A lot of members of the faith militant accompanied her to the sept of Baelor. The high septon chaired and a lot of ignorant plebs were waiting for her. Disgusting rabble. She was escorted to a small dais where she could see Margaery, Mace Tyrell, the old Tarly and his son. Annoying people from palace, like the prince of the Red Flower Vale. All of them would assist to the judgement of the arsemonger whore next day. It was her only comfort, they were laughing of her but they were going to pay and suffer. Cersei didn't think in another thing while she was swearing her innocence but when she sat she saw a generalized expression of wonder. The light of the sun throught a window covered her. She wasn't the skinny and scared woman who walked naked by the streets of the city. Whispers crossed the air and the champions arrived. Robert Stong and Loras Tyrell.

Loras was not beautiful as always. In fact he was not beautiful, he was ugly as his sister was inside. After a battle against men of the Iron Islands, hot oil deformed his face, but he still wearing clothes with gold roses embroidered. In her place, Margaery was full of poorly concealed hate. It was almost sad to see Loras, who was the dream of maidens, transformed into a nightmare. In the other side, Robert Strong seemed like an awesome warrior with his white armour and his covered face. He made people fear him. "My sons," started the sparrow, "we are here ready to judge Cersei Lannister in name of the Seven. I pray to the Father for his guide after the testimony of her own innocence. I ask gods to bear witness upon this trial and help us find truth in the soul of the accused. She'll live if she is innocent and die if is guilty. I ask the Warrior to lend strength to our son, Loras, who confessed his sins and is our champion." The face of Mace Tyrell showed pain and sadness. Cersei was so pleased. 

The high sparrow prayed and prayed but she didn't understood the words, submerged in her own thoughts. "Just the Seven may judge us. They are our light. Champions, bend your knee."

They obeyed him. The septon raised a crystal sphere above their heads, and the reflection of light shone against them. With a high melodic voice the high sparrow asked for guide and made some flourishes with the sphere before hiding it into his garments. Two boys arrived with a big coffer full of weapons . Loras chose a sword and a small shield while Strong prefered an iron sphere hanged of a chain. He rejected the shield. "Fight!" yelled a sparrow beating a golden cymbal.

Both of them raised fast. They walked in circles, staring at themselves and moving closer and closer. Loras attaked at first but Stong dodged him and attacked too. Loras covered himself with the shield and moved away of the iron sphere. He was so fast, like the Red Viper. A good strategy. He catched Strong's arm and pierced his chest but there wasn't any sign of pain. Cersei was not surprised. Qyburn was a wise man, able to uproot whatever he wanted from the claws of death. Specially her champion. The Mountain. Qyburn was probably the only loyal man in King's Landing. Maybe in Westeros.

The iron sphere was heavy but Strong lifted it easily, like it was made of feathers. Loras tried to go back, to advance, to go back and advance, trying to exhausting him but it was impossible. He was slower and slower and then he received a hit on his face. Loras spit some teeth and blood. "Watch out!" yelled Dickon Tarly. But it was too late. Loras was beaten and he fell to the floor. He couldn't raise again and Robert Strong was merciless. He lifted the sphere and squashed Loras chest. All the public was silent, shocked, unable to act until Margaery broke the silence. She ran to his brother without caring about Robert, who was very dangerous. Unfortunately for Cersei, her father, Dickon and old Tarly followed her and took him away of her. "Stop!" yelled the high sparrow. More men went and tried to stop him but he was unnstopable and damaged them.

"Enough," said Cersei moving close to them. When Robert heard her he stopped. She saw Dickon Tarly yelling because he had a broken leg. His father had a bleeding nose, maybe broken. Mace tried to revive Loras and Margaery cried against the body. Loras was dead. 

Dead. That meant she was innocent. "You are a murderer!" cried Margaery. "My brother is dead because of you, damned witch!" She went to Cersei with her face disfigured of anger but Robert blocked her.

The high sparrow look at her with sadness in his old eyes. 

He announced the innocence of Cersei.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The theory says Robert Strong is the mountain and is ok for me 👌🏻 By the way Cersei should have seven champions and that stuff but it would be too slow, and who would like to do that 😂


	8. Chapter 8

Swords, swords and more swords. As a blacksmith Gendry forged iron for a long time. Arrowheads, axes, spears, all of them easy to handle. Even for country people, like the peasants who were inspecting the blades. 

_We are pathetic_ , he thought.

Farmers, servants, craftmen were sent by Lem Lemoncloak. Men and women who hated the house of Frey. He also found the woman of Tarth, who arrived to them with her squire, Podrick. A shy boy, but he was nice. Gendry appreciated him. They used to talk when Podrick finished his job helping lady Brienne, who trained people and ambushed Frey soldiers to keep the moral and obtaining food. But she was always away of lady Stoneheart. He supposed Brienne and her lady had a tense relation since the woman of Tarth appeared with a Lannister sword. Gendry was not sure about it but most of rumours said the big woman was alive because she had a chance to find alive lady Stoneheart's eldest daugther, missing since the death of the blonde jerk who was going to be king. Brienne was lucky. Specially considering her mess with the kingslayer. Thinking about it, Gendry recognized he wouldn't like to be in that situation. But he didn't understood why a woman who claimed to be loyal could join a traitor. By the way, where was the kingslayer? Probably he betrayed her like he did to the mad king, the fat one and his sister.

He left the hammer and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Then walked until the forest glade where Podrick was waiting for him. Time ago Gendry saw his own limits to fight: he was strong and able to win a fight but he was erratic too. He had to learn how to handle more weapons, to fight like a real warrior. He shared his worries with Podrick and the boy told him he could talk to his lady. Brienne accepted him as a learner. When she and the squire visited them, they spent part of their time showing him how to treat the worst injuries, some manoeuvres with horses and even some song that Brienne learnt of her father in Tarth. He wasn't outlined in that kind of tasks but he made his best effort but he couldn't learn how to handle a sword even if he forged lots of them. Between his hands swords looked small.

"I'm glad to see you, Gendry," said Podrick with a shy smile. "I'm finishing my job, so we'll train. I have to clean my lady's armour."

The cawing of a crow startled them. Podrick watched them, pecking the eyes of a dead man putrefied who was hanging on a tree. "I'll help you," said Gendry. He filled a barrel with sand and put inside it the armour of lady Brienne. They rolled it and then scrubbed the metal pieces to remove rust. When the task was finished Podrick was very tired, the effort made his face red. His own face was just a little rosy, he knew it because of the reflection in the armour. Years of har work in the forge made him strong, able to lift the heaviest objects and handle the hammer as no one did. He couldn't seize the typical weapons of knights but he had nothing to be ashamed because the hammer was the weapon of a king, that was what Brienne told him. She was strong like him and she knew how to handle a sword but she was not so agile because of her height.

When the armour was shining like silver he trained with Podrick, the perfect adversary for his strong arms. Because of his instruction he learnt a lot, but he couldn't say the same about new men. They were peasants, but they had to learn how to fight so he gave a hand to the brotherhood teaching them how to handle simple weapons like hammers, blow pipes and axes. Fortunately for all of them, a big group of soldiers arrived with Lem Lemoncloak, deserters who were mainly regretful of the rapines and looting boosted by the houses Bolton and Lannister. The soldires were disturbed because of the slaughter. They didn't tell that to lady Stoneheart, she'd probably hang them. But the brotherhood needed more men because they were twelve, lus forty soldiers, eighty peasants, Podrick and Brienne _. A disaster_ , he thought. A small group where he was the only blacksmith, just a part knew something about war and most of people were there because they hated Wlader Frey, they weren't their friends.

Gendry didn't fear the moment of battle, he was waiting for it. He swore to follow lady Stoneheart after Berric Dondarrion's death but most of them would die figthing. He was going to loose friends. Family. Again. 

He left Podrick and went to take some clean garments. In one of the caves there was a small river where people used to bath. A girl with red hair was keeping an eye on the fire which made the place warm. He asked her for a a bar of soap. When he was sure she was gone he undressed, threw his dirty clothes away and submerged into cold water. A pair of minutes passed fast when he felt warm hands touching his back. "I may help you with this," said a sweet voice. Startled, he looked behind and saw the red haired girl smiling. Hardly he told her he wanted to be alone and didn't take the soap until he was sure she wasn't there. Tom Sevenstreams told him once that women felt like ripe fruits to some men, and Gendry knew he was talking about him but he tried to think it was just a joke. But it wasn't. If someone tried to be nice with him, Gendry would run in the opposite way because he din't want to accept a girl. He grew with the fear and shame of his bastard status, and with fear of being around young women.

He bathed and dressed fast before going. He was scared of the girl, but he would not admit that. Walking fast, he came to the forge and found Brienne, who was analyzing some arrows. "Is good you are here," she whispered with her lips pressed and her face red. "I need a special kind of spear. I brought you a drawing of it to know if you may help me." 

The parchment showed an unusual spear with a rounded phylum, almost like a sickle. He tied his doublet and and saw that Brienne's face looked like a tomato like the whole time she was near of him but her expression was so severe and he thought she was angry. He didn't know why. "I can do it, it will be ready soon. Lady Brienne..." he doubted, he didn't want to bother her. "May I ask you something?"

"Yes, Gendry."

"Are you angry with me?" That was something that was most of time in his head. She was always staring at him when she thought he was distracted. She made him angry and eyes made him uncomfortable but something told him she had no bad intentions. By the way, she made him remember her mother, even if they were not similar.

Brienne sighed, her big blue eyes shone and for a second he thought she was not so ugly like people say, even with the terrible scars that crossed her face. "I'm sorry Gendry. You did nothing wrong. Is because your... Do you know king Robert had two brothers?"

"Two. I saw Stannis once in the shop of Tobho Mott, where I used to work in King's Landing. The other one wore brilliant garments. People said he liked fuckin' young boys."

Brienne coughed, awkward. "There was a tournament time ago. Renly Baratheon was wedding Margaery Tyrell and they wanted to be king and queen of Westeros." Brienne's eyes melted like butter near of a blaze. "I won. I fought against many knights but I did it. He offered me a place as his personal guard, no one had ever... he trusted me. He was a good man. He gave me his faith... and I failed him. He died when I was supposed to take care of him." She swallowed hard and her lips trembled. He didn't know what to say. Those words were nothing for him. 

"I'm sorry," he grunted when the silence was too long.

"You look like him," she said, "I always thought that, even if he wasn't tall as you are. He wore a short beard. His eyes were blue like yours and the same face shape, he used to say it was heritage of her granmother Rhaelle, but he never knew her."

Her eyes were sad. She neared him and held his fece between her cold fingers and for a moment Gendry felt horrified. He was sure his face was red. Why was she doing that? He didn't want to be rude because she was a good woman and a good instructor but he desired to take her hands away. "If you stop shaving you would... Tell me, did you know your father?" Brienne mumbled.

"You know I'm a bastard. I have no father," he snarled toughly. "My mother never talked about him, but I don't mind. I'm sure he was a hammered jerk." His expression was probably dour and the woman didn't insist. She told him he had to eat and rest. 

The inviting smell of freshly baked guided him to the place where people was waiting food. Meanwhile, the cauldrons reeked horribly. _Please not our food again_ , he prayed internally. He was hungry and was able to exchange his arm for a meat stew with some herbs. As always, lady Stoneheart appeared and he bent his knee as all of them did before she sit. 

_Damm, I'm hungry as hell._

Lady Stoneheart never ate with or without the but she always joined them at nights. A carpenter made long tables under her authority and all of them sat together, knights and country folk. She used to gave instructions and then stayed until the last dish was retired. Just then she dissapeared. A mother without mercy. Her skin was pale as bones and her wounds were bleeding. She didn't talk at least it was urgent.

Food was a deception as always. Milk was sour, cheese was like a stone. The main dish was made with ground walnuts and meat- weasel or otter, he couldn't know. Just the bread satisfied him, baked with flour of a load which was stolen to Frey. He would love some milk to eat with.

_I wish we'll steal some milk. And some turnips._

A deep, throaty voice talked to them. "My loyal people. You followed me. You honored me with your trust, you are men and women figthing against the evil which is menacing this kingdom. That evil is named Walder Frey and you fought courageously. This is the moment when I'll pay you." Her hand was covering her throat and her voice was raspy, a moribund wheezing. He wasn't going to forget the first months after her resurrection, when she couldn't talk except for some grunts and whispers. Men clapped surprised and pleased because of the payment. "Yes, I'm going to pay you. With revenge! Frey has allowed pillage, abuses and killings. The murder their own people and they decided to forsake the law of the gods. We'll attack and we'll win!"

After ordering to open a barrel of wine, she was gone. Between the joy and people cheering, Gendry found another face which reflected his own thougths. Thoros.

They were lost. Doomed to fail. 

Those dark thougths roamed around his head for weeks. Lady Stoneheart had a plan and she explained it to the members of the brotherhood, and they had to transmit her words to the rest of men. Gendry wasn't afraid to the battle but he couldn't stop thinking aboiut the lives that they were going to loose. Warriors, friends, brothers. Part of his family. 

Next days passed fast, they packed their possessions and left the caves hiding the entrances. Some hunters made traps to stop unknown people. They walked a long time until they saw the twin towers. The moment to show their loyalty came.

"Lord of Light protect us. Guide us" they prayed.

"Bring your fire to us, R'hllor," said Thoros of Myr. "Lord of Light give us your fire."

Near of them the rest of people were praying to the Seven under the guide of lady Stoneheart. Sometimes, curious eyes were staring at the members of the brotherhood until they saw his blue cold eyes and his face, then they stopped. Gendry believed in the red god after renouncing the Seven. But he didn't believe that R'hllor would give them power to win. Even if he was able to do it. Why should a god take care of them?

 _This is stupid,_ he decided. _This is not like hunting soldiers in the woods. Is the castle of the enemy._ This is gonna be bad. His hands were trembling but it wasn't the moment to show fear or weakness so he squeezed them. The prayers finished and they began to unfold as they planned. Gendry and Anguy had to get into the castle as peasants in search of a job. That was going to be easy, the house of Frey had no so much people because most of their men were fighting. The rest of men were going to intensify their ambushes to shed them. The moment was ideal: Walder Frey's allies were attacking other places and the old crap sent thousand soldiers at least and his elder sons to Roose Bolton. So, in the castle were just two hundred soldiers, some servants, the family. The brotherhood was going to send a message in the precise moment, so Gendry and Anguy were going to knew that they had to kill the guards. Bad thing they had few men. 

Ejecution was complicated, probably a lot of them could die. Maybe he could do it. 

Lady Stoneheart didn't give a damm about it if Walder Frey was going to die. He had to die and she did not even talk about children and women. Gendry tried to forget that idea, he was afraid. He was afraid because he was not a murder, specially of innocent people. _Sometimes I don't know why lord Beric gave his life for hers,_ he thought. _She may be Arya's mother but they are not similar. She wants to protect weak people but at the same time she is oppressing them. She has no mercy._

He reminded the list of Arya and her obsession to finish it. Maybe they were not so different. They were impulsive and passional, both capable of fight until their last breath. Of nowhere Weasel appeared in his mind. A small girl, less than nothing. Insignificant but Arya rescued her, she was a small defenseless. Arya would never kill innocent people. Never. 

A small group took them to the limit of the forest under a light rain. The towers were bigger and bigger, both dark as night and surrounded by moats and walls. Thoros said goodbye with a short prayer, he was against that decision of lady Stoneheart but he swore serving her until the day of her death. He wasn't going to fight, he had to wait until the end of the battle and then try to make dead come alive again.

Some country folks walked to the doors of the castle. Gendry decided to let Anguy talk. In the main door a kid guided them to a man who was the understeward of the castle. Anguy told him a story about a farm and a burned village while Gendry observed. There were many servants and not so many soldiers to deffend their walls. Most of them were children and women. He hoped lady Stoneheart would show some mercy. For ancient people too, ancient people like the understeward who was staring at him with a grumpy face. "What do you know about steel, boy"

"I know everything," he grunted. "I know how to forge weapons."

The understeward grunted too. "We don't need more wepons. We need shoeing our horses, to fortify our doors and forge some tools for the wedding of our lord. It will be soon. Can you do all of it?"

Gendry said he could and the understeward sent him to the old blacksmith for a proof. The forge seemed like it wasn't used since a long time ago but everything was tidy. The old man was old and very talkative, he told him that most of his trainees were sent to the allies of Frey. He was a little annoying but when he saw that Gendry knew how to work he smiled pleased and let him alone after giving him some instructions. Then, he went to sleep and gendry worked in horseshoes and buckles for harnesses.

After a long nap the old smith told him that he could go to rest. "I'll stay,"say Gendry, "you can go to eat without me". The smith didn't try to convinve him to go and he promised to send him some food. Gendry agreed with his head and still hammering until he felt eyes staring at him. 

He glance behind and saw a small girl who had a tray with food and a wooden tankard of beer. When he stared at her, she looked down and he couldn't see her eyes. "What are you lookin'?" he asked her. She didn't say anything. "Can't you talk?" he grunted and she moved her head like saying no while she left the tray near of him. He felt a little bit uncomfortable and wanted to say sorry but she ran away, probably scared. A strange girl. 

He started eating and Anguy appeared muddy as hell, he never saw him that filthy in all of those years he knew him. He had an empty tankard, meat and bread. "They made me to spur the pigs. That's something I haven't done in years," he smiled happily. "I asked for you and the smith told me you were here. Why didn't you go with us?"

"I prefer eating alone. Something new?"

"The main door is fuckin' broken down. Other doors are made with wood and they are most rotten. Frey don't care about a shit in this castle, he is just interested in the girl who is gonna marrry him in two months. Dirty old man." Anguy laughed sardonic. "He just invited some family, no allies because of war. Guards are lazy, believe me. Just some wine, conversation and they'll die."

For Gendry that wasn't exactly correct. True, Frey was a murderer and he ofended his own gods but they, the brotherhood, weren't like them. They weren't assasins, they didn't kill innocent people in the middle of the night. He drank some beer trying to drown the bad feelings and then saw the small girl walking near of the forge's window with some tankards and a pitcher, probably for the farmers. Anguy saw her too and he ran to yell at her. "Darling, is that beer? Bring a litlle for those thirsty guys. Come here, we won't bit you!" She went to them with her eyes halfway closed, looking to the floor like she was scared of them.

 _Maybe she is shy,_ he thought staring at her. _And modest. But there is something strange in her._ "Do I know you?" the question left his mouth fast. She moved her head negatively and went outside. 

"A sweet face. Pretty girl. Will you sleep with her?" Anguy gave him an elbow and a light slap on his back. "She would be perfect for you, she doesn't talk so much."

For a reason he didn't know that made him feel angry. "No."

"So sad," a loud laugh received his refusal, "if you want I can do it for you, you know. She may accompany us."

"Let her alone", he grumped angrily, "she is just a child. Focus your eyes in those guards and I'll do the same with the doors."

Anguy drank the rest of beer in silence. Gendry knew he thought weird things about him because he didn't like to kill or drank in excess or sleeping with girls. Sometimes he thought that maybe Aunguy believed he liked boys or something but he was too scared ask. Idiot. They started to talk about their plan and Anguy left him to make some friends between the guards while Gendry finished his beer. 

The smith arrived soon and presented him to the carpenter, who showed him the damge of their doors. Both of them gave some instructions about the labours for next weeks. 

Everything in the castle needed a long time to be repaired but they were going to act quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Arya and Catelyn are so similar but Catelyn had no good sense (?) because she was a "proper" lady and that was against herself.   
> I think in the future, the brotherhood without banners will have a strategy of "guerrilla warfare" because the Riverlands have a very special geography and if you think, Robb had a big army which was dissagregated because they were tired of figthing in a long (long, long, long) war campaigne and Catelyn/lady Stoneheart maybe learnt about it and even if she was a lady, she is not stupid. Oh damm, I need the next book soon 😑


	9. Chapter 9

_ Hell, hell, hell. _

Arya kneaded the dough with courage, like it was the face she desired to kick. Time and efforts were invested in her plans. She served to the house of Frey. She ignored sarcastic comments of Elmar and the hands of men touching her body. She even got the trust of the  understeward . Everything was so  difficult, and the stupid smith appeared of nowhere with  Anguy of Dorne to play as thief knights. Asshole. She knew who he was despite his beard and the years that passed by his face. At least she had the idea of simulating she couldn't talk. She spied them and heard they were going to attack the castle. Few men, few possibilities of living after that. 

_ If they are stupid enough to do it, they deserve their destiny, _ she thought.  _ Gendry is stupid and Anguy stupider. Why should I risk everything for them? _

Of course, she wasn't going to risk herself but... they were going to be discovered, which meant that Frey could start being paranoid. A paranoid Walder Frey could decide to bring more guards to protect himself of outlaws like those boys. Arya knew she had to act soon. That night, if it was possible. Many times, she thought she could forget her family and her revenge, riding away of everything to find a place to live quietly. But she could not. Food, home, friends, those weren't substitutes of justice. She needed that justice, she didn't leave Braavos for nothing.

She wanted revenge.

They had the same goal. Why wouldn't she help them? They were in the same  side; they had the same enemy. She served infusions, endured Elmar's acid words and the lord touching her breast sometimes.  _ Enough _ , she thought while she filled the pies with meat and vegetables.

She had to admit that a part of her heart was happy of seeing Gendry safe and sound. It was so pleasant, seeing a known face. She thought she wasn't going to see him again. But at the same time she was angry and felt miserable while thinking of their "friendship", when he left her for that band of outlaws- especially because in the depths of her heart she dreamt riding with him to become into an outlaw. Stupid idea, she was a fool. 

She knew she was not fair to him. Gendry passed his life serving people and for once he had the chance of belonging to a place where all were equals.  _ But I offered him to be part of my family and he rejected me _ , her heart was devoured by anger. It wasn't enough for him. She wasn't enough for him. Of course, she wasn't. Would someone like to take care of a child? A hindrance. The separation was the best thing that could happen. Could she claim that her family was going to accept him? Jon could accept him without a doubt, maybe Bran, Robb and Rickon too. But what about her mother? Or Sansa? Especially Sansa.

They were children and she couldn't blame him.  _ He is not a child, _ said a stupid voice in her head.  _ He is a man. A man, a man, a man.  _ "Nan, the pies! Better finish with them soon," yelled the understeward, "the young lord is coming soon, and he'll be hungry." She obeyed and put some salt in the meat. 

Black Walder arrived that morning with his brother Lothar, they were the favorite sons of Walder Frey, and the serfs had to serve them whole the time, ignoring the rest of the family. If they desired to eat, they were going to get food served in gold dishes. If they desired a bath, the most beautiful women were going to serve them wine while they were bathing. If they desired women, some unfortunate girls were going to sleep with them. With no tears.

When the pies were finished, a maid took them to the oven and the understeward called her. He seemed so nervous. "Go and put some clean garments," he babbled, "you'll serve Black Walder today. You'll be his cupbearer because he wants a clean girl. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I do," she answered.

The understeward seemed nervous and scared. "Don't talk to him if he doesn't talk to you, be modest. Obey him. Don't look at his eyes. We don't have more option than serving him because he is our lord." His face showed how terrified he was of Black Walder. "Go to change your clothes. Then come back and prepare his wine." She obeyed and heard the crying of one of the scullery maids who was almost yelling. The defilement of young women was his favorite activity, they said. A woman told her Elmar was his son. A dangerous man. In the House of Black and White she learnt that people like him had to be attacked but not openly. That was why after dressing she took a small jar she hid between her things. 

Nightshade. 

She discovered easily the place where the understeward kept the potions locked. At his first moment of neglect she stole a jar, the Waif showed her that ten drops made people dreaming forever. Dream, death. Was the same thing. She poured some nightshade into a small blister which hid in her sleeve. 

She went to the kitchen again, where a man gave her a wineskin full of red wine which she poured into a pot with honey and spices. Then, when she was sure no one was looking, the drops. Tasting it with the end of her finger, she decided it was well. Her hands were shaking before because of fear but suddenly she felt better because of the nightshade. Just a drop to slow a pounding heart.

_ Ten drops and there will be a sleep with no end.  _ The gentlest of poisons, but she had no more time.

When the pastries were  ready , she prepared the tray. It was almost bigger than her, full of food. Enormous sausages with herbs, salad of flowers and fruits, small pieces of cheese over slices of bread. A glass, a knife, a spoon. Eggs in sauce, a piece of fruit cake and some of the meat pies. While she was preparing the food, her stomach grunted- the servants ate less than lords, always soup and vegetables. The wine was poured into a small pitcher and the  understeward told her Walder was waiting so she went to his room. 

Black Walder just had to drink the wine: to help him, she added lots of salt to the pies. The space between the kitchen and the tower of the lords was walked fast. Out of his room, she knocked the door and a yell told her she could open. "Let the food and serve me wine," he grunted aggressively. 

A small wineskin was between his hands. Black Walder was in the corner of the room and thew it away when he saw the pitcher. She obeyed. He took off his doublet and sat to drink. Years ago, she saw him in King's Landing, but she reminded a terrifying man, not a drunk one who had problems to take his clothes off. 

Every time she saw the glass empty, she poured more wine. Black Walder didn't look at her face at first but in a moment, he saw her body and looked at her small breast. He seemed interested in her small hands. "Do you want more wine, m'lord?" she asked.

He didn't give her an answer but wrapped an arm around her waist and held her hand. "I like your skin. You are not a bastard of my father, aren't you?"

She laughed sweetly. "No, m'lord. I'm just a scullery maid."

The wine was very useful: his purple eyelids seemed tired, but he tried to keep his eyes open. The pression around her waist was decaying but he held one of her hands firmly. "Why do they send a filthy girl of kitchens to me? I just needed a servant," his tongue was tangled. "Whatever. Why are you dressed? Take that skirt off, you fucking slag." His head moved to his chest; his shoulders relaxed. His hand finally fell against his own body, crushing with his belt. 

"You are going to fall asleep and will never wake up. I'm Arya Stark, you are a dead man," she said to his ear. 

Black Walder opened his eyes and his last attempt was killing her. His hands grabbed her neck and pressed. She had a moment of  panic , but the man fell asleep and that was all. Arya took him by his hair and stared at him. A peaceful expression that made her angry, so she kicked the body out of the chair. His body rolled and she sat in his place to devour the food left by Black Walder. At the end, she searched for the key of the room, which was on a table. She took it and went back to the kitchen after locking the door.

When she was there, she gave the dirty dishes to a woman. The old steward was nervous, his face pale as a skull. He asked her if Black Walder was  _ pleased  _ with her service. "He is slept. He told me he just wants to rest." The understeward didn't ask her if she was alright but Arya understood his fears. She worked a long time until there was no more thing to do. Women went to their room and she followed them, talking about small things happily and then she laid herself down over the sedges which covered the floor.

The last candle finally went out and she acted like she was sleeping until some snoring and breathing told her women were slept. She left the room smoothly and went to  the kitchen, where a sac with strings, canvas and a knife was previously prepared. The big one, used by men to slice the neck of pigs. 

She ran into the darkness to the room of Black Walder, who was sleeping soundly. Eternally. She went to his body.

He was beheaded with no hesitation.

After cutting his head she saved it into the sac. Her hands were stained with a dark liquid that she didn't perceive as blood until she went to the next room and saw the red against the light of a candle. 

Lothar Frey had his habitation in the same corridor, just separated by two or three chambers. The door wasn't locked, but it creaked. A slight shiver ran down her body until she realized he was asleep, snoring like he was going to swallow the castle. The scent of blood was so intense, but he didn't wake. She touched his body and he didn't wake. Good. He slept like an innocent child so she tied and muzzled him without any problem, she almost couldn't believe it. Abruptly she slapped his face and put the knife in his neck. He opened his eyes without understanding what was happening. "I want you to answer some questions," she said cold as the knife. Nod if you are going to do it. If you yell, move or do something stupid I'm going to slice your neck as I did with your brother. Then I'll throw your body to the hogs."

He was confused but slowly he understood the situation and stared at her. But he didn't move, probably he hoped her to waste her time until someone could appear to save him. So, she needed to be more persuasive and that was the reason to open the sac and showing him the head of his brother. "If you don't answer I'll torture you like I did to him," she lied, "is better for you to help me so I'll give you freedom."

She had lots of fun slipping the knife over his neck and then she slashed a small part of it until a drop of blood fell. Lothar felt it and agreed so she smiled to him sweetly and proved an easy question. "Bolton still ruling the North?" He agreed. "Well, well. Arya Stark wedded Ramsay Bolton time ago. How is her lord? He could be difficult sometimes but despite it I think he is loyal, protective... a lord who loves his lady." Lothar agreed but she knew he was lying because of his eyes. The knife was pressed against his cheek, which bleed. "Don't lie to me, I'll know if you do it. Her crying is enough to deflate an army. But is not important, she disappeared. That's the question. Do you know where she is?"

He said no. She pressed the knife.

The head of Black Walder was still in her hand. A drop of blood fell from his neck to Lothar's eyes, who started to move furiously, totally scared. He moved his head again trying to say he knew nothing.

His eyes showed her he wasn't lying. "Did they murder her? No, she was an important piece in this game," she said to herself. "They needed her. Is she gone? Kidnapped? Maybe she is locked?"

She knew the other Arya was abused by her husband, like an animal he could beat without consequences. With that kind of life anyone with guts and good sense would flee. Maybe she fled or maybe not, she had no way to know. Lothar agreed to her but in fact he was useless to her like he was to protect the false Arya. She felt disgusted. "I can bet you never tried to help her, even if you knew he was a bastard. Am I wrong? Rumors fly and I have some news for you. That girl is a liar, I'm Arya Stark and I'll take revenge for the family you helped to murder."

The throa t was sliced, and the head was separated of the body. She took it from the hair and save in the sac with the head of his brother.

She locked the room. Time was running but she served enough time to discover some secret passages, which were abandoned time ago, as gossamers showed. The passages took her fast to the chambers of men. They slept in their beds like they were not  murderers , so she killed them without bad conscience. Filthy job, but effectively. Dishonorable. Frey were cowards but they thought they were safe and sound inside the castle. She felt hate for their pusillanimous women and the sons of those men, but she knew they weren't guilty, so they had to live. They were sleeping together in a big room where they were constantly daunted by the lord of the castle. She ignored that zone and went to the doors of Walder Frey. The Frey who murdered her mother and brother. 

The knife was strongly gripped by her hand.

She opened one of the black doors carefully, waiting to see his horrible face between the bed sheets. For her surprise, the candelabrums lighted the chamber and  he  w as snoozing in a small seat in front of the chimney. A beautiful girl laid down in the floor. Not slept but dead. Her white hands were near of some broken glass. Bloody. Arya walked to the man with the knife rousing in her hand.

A wolf howled outside, and she couldn't avoid a gasp. "Walder?" The old man didn't glance behind him, half asleep. "You are late, didn't you miss your old father? I had a surprise for you but, you see, she wasn't a good surprise." He was laughing of the girl without realizing that the steps were not the steps of a man. "This slut preferred death before being yours. Take the body away, is smelling like shit."

Fast like a lightning she went to his seat and pressed her arm to his mouth; he wasn't going to yell if she could cover his face properly. "I'm not Walder," she whispered sweetly.

The old body  rocked , trying to push her away. The withered mouth bit her arm, the bony nails were buried in her face and shoulders. Despite the pain of her arm she took canvas from her sac and muzzled him. Sitting astride on the bearskin which covered his old legs, she continued tying him until he couldn't move. Walder Frey was so old and so fragile. "Be careful, my lord." The knife passed by his neck; she was almost playing with him. "These hands are filthy of blood. The blood of your sons." His old eyes were following the movement of the knife, he knew his end was near. "You have to pay for your sins, Walder Frey. Your gods send me as their hangman. I'm the daughter of a murdered mother and the sister of a king executed by cowards. I'm Arya Stark and winter came to your door."

He must saw the eyes of her father in her own eyes, grey and ruthless. The knife passed by his neck, slitting his throat. His head fell on the silk carpet and she put it into the sac. It wasn’t heavy as the heads of Black Walder or Lothar. Her neck was wet, and she thought the chamber was so hot when she dried her sweat. An old man like Walder should freeze every night. In the chimney, fire burned. It burned too in some braziers of iron. She secured the sac in her waist and then grabbed the pokers. With careful she took some of the wood which was on fire and threw it to the bed. Then the braziers were knocked out over the silk rugs, the velvet drapes and the cane mats. Then she took all the oil lamps, which hanged on the wall and thew it to the embers and left the room.

She ran as she never did before and crossed the bridge, going to the room of women. She was lucky because the Water Tower was empty since the old guard died. That meant time. The sac was heavy but at least her hands had no burns. Fast as she could, her things were packed. She went to the forge. The other tower wasn't burning yet, maybe the fire was slow... or out. It wasn’t important to her in that moment, she just wanted to flee. 

Before entering to the shed she stopped to breathe. Her throat was burning and had a bitter taste, but she reassured herself and saw through the glassless window. Gendry slept quietly in a cot and the old smith a little farther.

She jumped through the window after tested the door- too noisy. He used to be a light sleeper, so she covered his mouth and slapped his cheek softly. He opened his eyes. "Don't speak," she whispered, "I need you now. Come with me." She thought he wasn't going to follow her, but he moved his head saying yes and indicated her to go out. She obeyed and left. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she heard him dressing. The he appeared in front of her with an angry expression. "I thought you didn't talk," he grunted while rubbing his eyes. "What do you want?" 

"The brotherhood sent me," she lied, "and I am here to help you. Open this and don't yell."

Gendry obeyed and barely stifled a yell. The white old head was easy to recognize. "What the hell...?"

"Is Walder Frey. And his heirs. Look for your friend and I'll go for horses. We'll flee by the east door. We'll meet here, don't be late." She left him without waiting for an answer and went to the stables. Horses neighed but the place was empty because stable boys just slept there when mares were going to lamb. She harnessed her stallion and two horses. The stallion knew her scent because they were a long time together and decided to follow her, but she had to furl the reins of the other nervous horses. They crossed to the forge fast. 

" So , you may talk," said a voice she knew before, "Gendry told me you are helping us. Is this real or are you lying?"

A shade dressed  in a black cloak aimed at her heart with an arrow. She threw the sac as an answer.  Anguy caught it clumsily and looked inside. Then he vomited noisily. "Frey and his heirs," she said. "You can go to check their bodies or coming with us and kill the guard with your stupid arrows." 

They went silently to the east door with the reins of the horses in their hands. The guard was distracted. Arya indicated Anguy to shot one of his arrows and the guard died soon. They went to the door, which was small so Gendry could open it easily, like it was made of straw. After it, they rode the horses until they were in the limit of the forest. Just in that moment she turned and saw the place they left.

A column of smoke rose into the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gendry y Arya finally met but he doesn't know she is Arya... or maybe Arya doesn't know he knows she is Arya and no who she pretends to be. Welcome to Brain Games.   
> I prefer Walder's death of the tv show but there's no time in this story for that 


	10. Chapter 10

The only sound they could hear in the forest was made by their horses. It resounded with such a din of hooves but sometimes they could hear wolves howling or the sound of the wind between the leaves. The black sky became into a grey one, dawn was near. Sometimes, Gendry glanced behind, surprised of seeing a pillar of smoke rising. Anguy seemed surprised too but the girl wasn’t interested and didn’t look, she seemed sure they weren’t going to be haunted. 

To be sincere, he wasn’t. At any time, the serfs were going to find the dead bodies. There were three horses and servants less and a dead guard. The relation between them and the smoke... Gendry decided he didn’t want to know how she killed the old lord. It was so terrifying if he thought that a small girl, whose face still having childish features, was riding her horse happily while she had three heads into a sac. Terrifying, but he had to focus himself in following her, she was so fast and sometimes her horse disappeared between the trees. Fortunately, he learnt to ride through the years. It was not difficult as the times when he was an apprentice who had to drive the cart of the iron, but he felt pathetic. Especially because the girl stopped sometimes to wait and stared at him with her eyes laughing. 

After some time, the left the forest and went to the river since their horses were slower between dense vegetation and mud. They were silent, Anguy didn’t talk as he usually did and himself was not so talkative. The girl was silent too, she looked bored and not so interested in them. They went after her to a zone full of spruces which branches chafed their faces. Finally, the girl left them dismounted from horses. “Why did the brotherhood send you to us?” asked Anguy. “Why did you kill the old man? We were supposed to seize the castle, our watchmen are here. They observe us.” 

A growl received his words. “If they observe us, they could stop us before. We must wait until they’ll found us.” She didn’t say anything more and took off the harnesses of her stallion. They did as her, and the animals cropped the grass. Anguy placed some blankets between the roots of a tree and fall asleep. Gendry doubted; he was tired, but he couldn’t sleep again. The girl seemed decided to stay awake, she was digging under one of the spruces. 

_That girl is crazy_ , he thought staring at her until she unearthed some reins richly decorated and two small bags she threw near of her things. One of them tinkled, obviously it was full of coins. He had to admit she was asserted. And her face was nice. He didn’t notice that before, she was thin and her hair was dark, but not black as his. Her eyes were dark too, more sharpened than a sword. 

He stared at her, but she ignored him. “I know you,” he told her finally, “you lied to me before.” 

“That’s impossible. I didn’t lie,” she whispered while cleaning the harnesses. 

He was sure she was lying. “You lied. I know I’ve seen you before.” 

Silence. 

“You are so stupid. You haven’t seen me before. You can’t know me.” The girl stared at him with her eyes open completely for first time. _Grey eyes_ , he thought, _that’s impossible. She must be dead, but this girl... they must be the same age. If there only would be a way to know..._

Gendry left her, thinking. How could he know? He glanced at her. She was covered in blood. Her clothes, her hands, her neck. She took some things, probably she was going to take a bath. The idea of a girl naked made him uncomfortable, but he had to stop her, at least until knowing the truth. Near of him was a small fig tree and he had an idea. A good one. He went to the small tree and talked to her. “You are right I haven’t seen you before. Are you hungry? I found this.” 

He showed her the small tree. She went to him, but he threw her a fig. She caught it with her left hand. 

As soon as she gripped the fruit, her big eyes shone fiercely in her pale face. 

A hammer blow in his heart couldn’t shocked him as it did. 

“I know who you are,” he mumbled, going closer to her. “You are Arya Stark. Arry. Weasel. The name doesn’t matter. M’lady.” 

His voice broke and knelt in front of her. “You are mad,” she grunted, “you don’t have to talk to me like a lady. I’m just a servant.” 

He wanted to smile. “I know you are Arya,” he insisted with his eyes crystallized. “You didn’t grow so much. Your face and voice changed but your eyes still grey.” 

The girl, Arya, stared at him. Her face wasn’t expressive until a small fissure in the white face betrayed her. She pressed her lips together and the years fell in her face, like she was very old. “Stand up. You are right, I lied to you. I’m not a good liar as I think,” she laughed bitterly. “What if I am Arya Stark? I’m no one. Less than no one. Leave me alone.” 

She pushed him away of her and went into the woods. He followed her despite the tough words, they had to speak while they were alone. “Wait!” He yelled aloud but she ignored him. “I thought you were dead! Brienne of Tarth found the Hound dying alone. We looked for you, we were scared for you! Harwin loose his hair. Where were you? Your mother...” 

Arya stopped and he reached her. Suddenly, he was besieged against a tree with a knife in his neck. “She is dead, I knew it. I saw her throat bleeding and the head of my brother’s direwolf nailed to his body. I don’t care,” she smiled pretending she was alright, “I killed Walder Frey and his sons. I have his head. I think we don’t owe each other anything.” 

Gendry gulped. She didn’t know the things that happened in the forest. “Your mother is alive,” he whispered, shivering because of the memory of the big wolf crying in front of the dead body. “She was brought back to life by lord Beric. It was eerie, she was thro... we found her in the river after the red wedding.” 

“What?” 

He gasped. It was difficult to say, the body of her mother dumped her body into water by those guest right violators, but he couldn’t lie to her. He talked about the day that wolves howled like they were crying, and how the brotherhood went to them. About the pale face of Harwin when he recognized she was lady Catelyn, the fear they felt when Beric Dondarrion gave her the flame of his own life and how she hunted soldiers of her enemies. Arya left him move and kept her knife away. “Her name is not Catelyn Stark anymore, she is lady Stoneheart.” 

She seemed white as milk. In a moment he thought she was going to vanish, but she kept her indecipherable expression. “That’s impossible...” 

“I know is difficult to believe,” he said, “but is true. You know it is possible, you saw when lord Beric was...” 

“She would never... forget it.” Arya bit her lips and looked away. “I will take a bath. Don’t talk about this. Is a secret. 

Her voice was demanding, as the lady she was. The memory of a small girl with masculine garments touched him. “As m’lady commands” 

When she was a child, she could shove him and probably hit his stomach or something like that. But that was past. The face in front of him was unexpressive, except for those cold grey eyes, which stared at him. She was terrifying. Or maybe she could be, but there was a small flame in her eyes and her mouth was tight, like she was trying not to laugh. 

_She should smile more_ , he thought while seeing her going. _She used to have a beautiful smile._

He realized of how his idea was ridiculous when he was alone. He wanted to hit himself for thinking about her like that. _Asshole_ , he told himself. _She is a lady. You are not worthy of her. You are just a smith and the brotherhood made you a knight because they needed one._

_He didn’t know why but thinking about their differences annoyed him._

Yes, Arya was a lady. He had to remember that. 


	11. Chapter 11

The water showed her a pale face with grey eyes which were sharped as knifes.

 _I curse you, Gendry,_ she thought biting her lips. _I curse your name, I curse the day you were born, I curse the day we met…_

She threw a pebble to the river and it touched the water surface two or three times before drowning. Arya could desire stones raining over Westeros because of her anger. Anger against Gendry, against the brotherhood, against Frey, against herself especially. Gendry knew her secret and if he didn’t keep it, she was going to be discovered. That was not something good. She was prepared to kill him if it was necessary but for a reason she did not know, she was sure he was not going to talk.

But the best she could do was being alert.

In a moment, the brotherhood members were going to find them and carry them to their lady. To punish them by the way, but she was sure the heads of Frey and his sons were going to placate them. She was a little bit scared of meeting her mother but probably she wasn’t going to recognize her because the last time they were together she was a child. And her mother lived because of the fire of another person: fire consumed hearts and the memories of her mother were, probably, blurred. Arya decided to do everything to be nice to her and stay for a while with them to rest for a time. Then, she was going to continue her road to the North.

After taking her boots off she checked the water temperature. It was cold, winter fell slow but cruel. Arya undressed and washed her clothes fast, hitting them against a rock to clean the filth. Then, with a damp cloth, she scrubbed the places of her body where white became to red because of blood and went into the water. A pair of minutes were enough to freeze her, so she got out and draped herself into the linen washcloth until she felt some warmth.

Stars were disappearing, and dawn was coming. She felt nostalgic, in Braavos there was just day or night with nothing more than sun or moon. In contrast, the sky of Westeros was full of old friends, the same stars that shone years ago when she watched them with her brothers in the towers of the castle. How many years passed since that? If she, her sister and father could take the ship that was waiting for them, what could happen? Maybe her father could be alive. Probably as the lord of the North. Same for Robb and her mother. Maybe, in that moment, Sansa could be embroidering a bride dress with the direwolf of the house Stark and herself could fled to the stables to feed her horse. That could be the life of Arya Stark. But it was not.

Nothing was like it was supposed to be and the only thing she had of her past was the name: Arya of the house Stark, daughter of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully. That was her real name, she was always Arya. Arry, Weasel, the cupbearer of Roose Bolton, even no one… those were masks to keep her identity as a secret. The kindly man was right, the wolf girl was waiting the moment to reveal herself. She could hide her name but it still being hers.

The sound of horses in the distance made her stop thinking. Paying attention, she realized they were not too far. Fortunately, Needle was under the bag with her clean clothes. It was ready for the battle, so she dried her body fast while sang a song of peasants, then dressed in the shirt, the doublet and the trousers. She saw some horsemen while she tied her boots and they arrived near of her just when she buckled her cloak with Needle hid under it. “Lovely song,” said one of them, who dressed a filthy cloak, “and a lovely voice. You really can sing, little girl.”

“Is just breathing,” she grunted. “Thanks.”

A young man with lascivious face made his horse went to her. “Why so angry? We don’t bit. Are you alone?”

Needle was ready to fight. Arya stared at him with anger, he smiled with cheek. She decided to draw her sword and silently started to do it but a voice stopped her. “She is not alone. And you should patrol the forest instead of scaring defenseless women.” 

Sure, defenseless women. But she had to admit that Gendry and his game were not too bad. She tried to crystalize her eyes to make them believe she was scared by looking at ground without blink. It was always effective. As other times men fell in her trap. “Our apologies, young lady. I am Lem and people call me Lemoncloak. This bastard besides me is Tyrek, we call him Foulmouthed because his mouth is a pit of shit. Is not a bad man, he just doesn’t know how to shut his mouth when he sees a beautiful girl.”

She simulated she was drying some tears when he presented the rest of men. Tyrek was not interesting for her but Lem… he was so old and looked like old crap. _Winter fell over all of us,_ she told herself and remembered her father, who could be his same age if he could be alive. _But he could smell better._

“Who is this girl, Gendry?” asked a man. “Did you steal her from Frey? She can’t be one of them, people say they are uglier than lizard lions, you’d prefer to be eaten than kissed.”

She was not pleased. She depended on Gendry: if he decided to betray her, she was going to fled. But before she was going to kill him as a traitor.

But Gendry knew how to shut his mouth. “She is Nan. We had some problems in the castle, she is with us. We need to see lady Stoneheart. Now.” Men agreed with him and dismounted to fill their wineskins with water from the rivers while Gendry and she went for Anguy and their horses.

“Really?” she asked when they were alone. “Of all the names you could choose, you chose Nan?”

He seemed grumpy. “You used it in Harrenhal. There are many girls with that name.”

The truth was that he was right, and it was not what worried her. “Anguy may expose me if he talks,” she whispered, “and I can’t let him do it.”

Gendry was not concerned. “Don’t mind about him. I convinced him to not talk about you. He won’t talk if he appreciates his life.”

Arya laughed. She wanted to know what he said, or what did he do to shut the poor archer. She kept the smile, even after a long-time riding. Gendry was not so stupid as she thought, and he even gave her some time. Of course, she could not hide forever, but she felt thankful because he helped her. Maybe she could even stay for a night or two in their camp and rest before going to the North. Sleeping without the fear of outlaws, animals, soldiers…

They were riding together, far from the other horsemen. Gendry looked confused in his horse but at least he could ride properly. A loud laugh escaped from her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just reminded when we fled from Harrenhal and your horse almost fell. You ride better.” He stared at her like something hurt him.

“I wish you’d smile more,” he said after a long silence. “Your smile. It’s nice.”

His eyes were blue and brilliant. Suddenly his face changed to red, just like an apple. He looked away like he talked in excess and spurred his horse before she could answer. It was always like that. There was distance since he knew she was the daughter of a lord. She felt a hole in her heart. She wanted to hit him.

They rode until the crack of dawn, always silently. Arya was sleepy but she had to be alert so when she could not keep her eyes open, she put her hand into her pocket and took some spices out of it. Then she chewed slowly those little red spheres or the long brown pods, feeling a little nauseous because of the strong flavor. Sometimes she desired to vomit but she stood the situation the best she could. At some point the boy of the dirty mouth approached his horse to her and tried to attract her attention. She ignored him and did not even try to be well-mannered because he just needed a place for his cock. His insinuations were firmly stopped, and her horse left his behind. She simulated she was thinking in something and glanced at Gendry. He seemed like someone kicked his balls or something.

“We’ll be soon in the camp,” yelled Lim from his horse, “but I’m tired as hell. I ate yesterday for last time. I propose to stop and rest for an hour.” They dismounted and he took two jams from his bag and a wineskin. After eating, Arya felt better, and the desire of vomit finally stopped. _Too much spices,_ she told herself.

A man smiled with pride. “Recently stolen. We ambushed a pair of Lannister soldiers near of the Twins.”

The pork was tender. Probably the house Lannister had tons of gold to give their soldiers that kind of food… or maybe their soldiers were thieves. That sounded more realistic. “They cried like girls when we catched them!” yelled Tyrek behind of them. “They must be happy we just took their food and armors!”

There were giant ferns relatively near of them where he was evacuating, and he appeared without shame and sat near of her. In Braavos she learnt that people had to wash themselves after that because feces were the origin of most of diseases. Disgusted, she took the rest of her food and went away of him, but not so far to not hear them. “A cocky girl,” whispered Tyrek, “I wanted to play with her but looks like she doesn’t want to.”

She pretended she was not hearing. “Shut up,” growled Gendry. “I’ll break your bones if you tease her again.”

Tyrek obeyed him. _He fears Gendry,_ she thought. The rest of men started to talk about some stupid things while Gendry frowned. He kept the angry expression and when they talked to him, he just answered with grunts or monosyllables.

 _He is trying to protect me,_ she realized. _That’s stupid_. She did not need help, it was enough for her to have her own sword and head to stay away of problems but for a reason she did not know, she felt thankful. In his own way, Gendry tried to make her life easier. And she could not deny that the feeling of being protected was not that bad. Not so much people did it, and most of them were underground. He was something like a real friend and it was warmth.

For a moment she thought to say thanks but then decided it was not a good idea. She did not know how to do it without bother him. When she was a child, she was a real nuisance with her uncomfortable questions. Even travelling with Yoren she bothered him with her childish ideas, so she preferred went to her stallion and took a wineskin stolen from the kitchen of Frey. Then, she sat next to him without caring of his surprised gaze. She drank a little and gave him the wine.

They drank in silence until they had to leave.


	12. Chapter 12

The sky was grey as a sword. It was raining and the drops of water fell from the sky to the trees, and from the leaves to their tired faces. They ride to the east and to the north, away of the river through an old path.

“Gendry.” Arya made some signs to attract his attention and threw a blanket to him. It smelt like stable but was more comfortable than his old one. He acknowledged it with a sign, she spurred her stallion until she reached him. They rode together silently while the rain fell over them. When they were under the trees it was sweet and refreshing, but when they were in open field it was so strong, and Gendry felt so thankful of having that blanket. At least the ground was solid and that made things easier for their animals.

“We’ll be there soon,” ranted Lim from his horse. “Lady Stoneheart is not in good mood, folks.” Some horsemen appeared. One of them was Thoros of Myr, who dismounted of his mule laughing. He saluted all men. Gendry stared at Arya whose face seemed pale. He dismounted too and took Thoros apart while the rest of men talked. “Please Thoros,” he asked, “I need you to tell lady Stoneheart you sent her to help us.”

“What?”

“Lie. That shitty castle is cursed, we had to flee. Just make lady Stoneheart listening at that girl.” Gendry thought he was going to ask for an explanation but Thoros accepted staring at Arya, who still mounted on her horse. She was inexpressive but the way she pressed the sac of the heads showed she was a little bit nervous.

“Who is she?” asked the red priest. “I trust you but… whatever, what do I have to say?”

Gendry told him that Arya had something important for their lady. He did not say her name and he did not give him details, but Thoros understood it was important. When they arrived at the place where their lady expected for news, they dismounted and went to her tent. A pair of girls opened the fabric which covered the entrance and let it fall when the last of them entered. Lady Stoneheart was sat in front of a table full of maps with two soldiers near of her. At first, she just talked to the people who had to watch the forest. Lannister and Frey soldiers, burned villages, dead country men were the theme of their conversation. After a time, she let them go. Anguy tried to go with men but she ordered him to stay. The entrance was closed and suddenly he felt cold.

“I told you to open the gates. Thoros, go out.”

Her throat was covered by her hand and her voice was angry, so angry.

Thoros bent his knee in front of her and refused to go, trying to explain that he sent the girl to save Anguy and Gendry of death. “I had visions. Visions of blood and deceases. Visions about heads in the walls and blue banners fluttering in the wind. A wedding and two executions. A girl crying under a black shade.” Gendry did not know if it was true, but he gasped. Walder Frey was supposed to marry again: if that was true Arya saved them from death. If it was not, at least it sounded reasonable.

Lady Stonehart seemed unpleased. “Prepare three gallows for tomorrow,” said to the guards.

Before they could react, Arya kept them back. Her face seemed sweeter as he had never seen, her cheeks were flushed, her lips trembled. She knelt in front of her mother and showed her the sac without opening it. “M’lady. I’m Nan from Maidenpool and I’m guilty of their disobedience. If someone here deserves a punishment, that’s me.”

Her voice was soulful, she touched his heart… but he knew she was lying. The guards held her, but she kept the sac in her hands. Gendry felt a hole in his heart- what if lady Stoneheart decided to kill her? She was her mother, it could be a sin for every god, no matter the faith. No, Arya was not going to die, even if he had to tell her mother who she was.

Luckily, Arya’s audacity- or her idiocy, impressed lady Stoneheart who ordered the guards to let her free. “Speak, child,” said with her hand on the throat.

“Maidenpool is a small village. One day appeared lots of Frey soldiers and they ordered to give them children as hostages. They killed my parents,” she cried, “they tried to rape me, but the red priest appeared with his sword of fire. He saved me and hid me in the house of an old healer when they burnt my home. I swore to avenge my family and I made him swore helping me.” With a gasp, Arya stayed silent for a while. Then, she dyed some tears. “One day we met, and he talked about two men in the castle and I offered my help.”

Lady Stoneheart seemed like she was burning in her own anger, probably thinking in the red wedding. “You are a child. You are not a man. How could you help them?”

“The red priest didn’t want me there until I reminded him his promise, I worked in the kitchen of the castle. I’ve heard what happened, m’lady.” Arya stared at her mother for first time. “They betrayed you to join the Lannisters. They betrayed their gods, their lords and their people.”

Slowly she opened the sac and displayed the head of Walder Frey. Some heavings sounded because the old skin was white, the eyelids were black, the cheeks were swollen. It smelt like death.

Lady Stoneheart went closer and without any sign of disgust, she took the head between her emaciated hands.

In her cold face there was something like surprise.

“Nan helped us to flee,” said Anguy. “She saved us.”

He was brave to talk. The woman stared at him; she was menacing. Her throat was covered by a thick rag, but they could see the coagulated blood in the edge of her neck. “Who did this?”

“Nan,” grumped Gendry. If there was something that could save Arya, it was the hate that lady Stoneheart felt for the Frey family.

“How did you kill those men?” she asked while seeing there were more heads. “You are a child. Was it magic?”

“No, m’ lady. The understeward gave me the job of cupbearer. I had to serve wine to the lords, and I stole nightshade to make them sleep. Then I killed them. It was dishonorable and the death better than what they deserve but they were sinners. I will expiate my own sins someday. I hope the Seven will forgive me.”

Lady Stoneheart stared at her, like she could see through her soul. “Put the heads in the pikes. Don’t spoil them,” she said to the guards, who took the heads. “Thoros of Myr, you defiyed me. You all defiyed me. I shall hang you, but you brought me the heads of my enemies, so I will forgive you. Just for this time. Go rest.”

They complied. Out of the tent Gendry realized his legs were practically trembling; Arya or himself were on the edge of death and life, her fearlessness nearly costed them their lives. Anguy left them and Arya asked for a place to sleep. She seemed drain as a dead flower. Gendry decided to follow her and Thoros offered his tent, it was empty, away of the activity of the camp, where the rumor of the heads began to expand quickly. “Well boy,” said Thoros standing between them when they reached the tent, “I risked my old skin for you. Tell me who is this girl.”

A man laden with hay for animals appeared. Harwin. He was going to say something but suddenly he saw the small shape next to Thoros.

“Gods!” he yelled while the hay fell from his arms. Pale as a skull he tried to bend his knee in front of Arya, but Gendry stopped him before.

“This isn’t the moment,” he grunted.

“Come in,” mumbled Arya. Hardly they did it, space was constricted. Just a small person like Arya could stand, but she sat over an old blanket.

“Who the hells are you, girl?” ranted Thoros.

Harwin gasped. “Is lady Arya, you dunce,” said with his voice broken. “She looks like lady Lyanna. My lady, your mother…

“No. No one may know; my name is a secret. I beg you Harwin. Please, don’t betray me.”

Men were overwhelmed but they swore to keep her secret and let them alone to rest. They laid their heads over the covers they found. Gendry was perched as far as possible to not disturb her and rolled over, watching to a corner.

“She is not my mother, Gendry.”

He rolled again. She was staring at him without blinking.

“Her body was damaged,” he said feeling uncomfortable.

She rolled to him. “I’m not talking about that. She isn’t what she was. My mother wouldn’t lead soldiers, she hated war and clashes. She almost cried when I yelled to my sister. My mother would never ask for heads.”

Arya stared at him more intensely and he felt his heart stopped. “People change.”

“They do, but she changed until a point where she is not my mother anymore.” A yawn interrupted her. “Gendry, I need you to tell me what happened when I wasn’t here.”

He lost his breath. That was a long story… just the things that happened to her mother were terrible, but the truth was that Westeros was so different than the place she knew. And worse than always. “When the Hound trapped you, we searched for a long time. We lost you,” he whispered. He reminded the fear he felt then. “One of us, Brienne of Tarth, found him dying. She took him to a septon but I think he is dead.”

“I remember,” she smiled bitterly. “It was raining. He was waiting for his gold, but he got me. You yelled my name. Or Harwin, I don’t know. He didn’t let me answer.”

So that was the reason. Gendry felt cold that night and the following nights. They looked for her a long time without results, fearing for her. The rumors of dead children, the burned villages, then the red wedding… Years when he was sick of worries and then sick of blame. “It was impossible to survive for a child. We almost reached the Saltpans but when we didn’t find you, so we returned. Thoros heard the wolves howling and we found your mother’s body. I mean, lady Stoneheart’s body.”

“What happened to him?”

“He died. She was dead time ago and he had to gave her his life. We swore to obey her. We expanded a rumor of specters in the forest to hide here. I was sent to the inn at the crossroads to take care of orphans. Some septons traveled by the region to found them and we fed them…”

“We fed them?” asked Arya opening her eyes.

Her eyes were completely open, cold as daggers. Was she jealous? Clearly she was not. It was a ridiculous idea. Besides, he did not talk about the girls. His face turned red when he reminded Willow’s proposal. “Me and the nephews of the old innkeeper. Willow and Jeyne. They kept the house clean and I protected them of thieves.”

“Can you read?”

“I can read and write. But my writing is not the best and I learnt it before of going to the inn,” he admitted. Arya seemed grumpy. “What about you? You were a long time away.” Her small body tensed. She raised and took off her cloak. “If you don’t wanna talk, I understand…”

“I traveled,” she grunted. “The Hound was wounded by the soldiers of his brother. I left him and I stole him, then I traveled to Essos in a ship. I didn’t give him mercy.” Her voice broke and she looked away. “I’ve made terrible things but that’s one of the worst.”

She touched his heart with her sad expression. He told her it was not her fault, but he was not sure if it was enough to convince her. Without details, Arya talked about working in a shrine where she cleaned bodies of dead devotees. Overly shivery, but if that was true, at least she was safe.

“They fed me, they dressed me. But I felt alone,” she said laying herself in front of him. “I decided to come back. That’s all.”

She did not apart him when he grabbed her hand. She even pressed her fingers to his hand; she had small scars there but her hand still soft. Gendry did not ask for more, but he desired to know everything about her. Even so, he decided to tell her what was into her head. “I’m happy of seeing you alive. I will follow you where you’d decide to go,” he swore. “You won’t be alone again.”

She did not answer but a small smile placed in her face before she fell asleep.


	13. Chapter 13

The members of the small army of lady Stoneheart accepted Arya so easily. She planned to stay with them for a few days, but she was there two or three weeks. People was nice and she could rest properly… and she got some information. Rumors said that Emmon Frey was the new owner of Tully’s castle. They were family of lady Stoneheart and the woman could decide going to the Riverlands. Arya knew she could have to choose if lady Stoneheart was going to decide something one day. If she decided to seize Riverrun, Arya was not going to follow her. Emmon Frey was nothing. There were important things, bigger things, but she admitted the possibility of travelling with them for a time.

That day she stole some food of lady Stoneheart’s provisions because men were practicing with their weapons, and after a combat they were going to be hungry. Just some beer and bread, nothing more. She bit the small slice she had in her hand while she was looking at two shapes fighting in front of her. The sound of metal was not nice for all people, but she liked it. She liked people fighting too; a blonde, tall woman was in front of Gendry with a crimson sword. He had a sword too, but he was not so good. On the other hand, the woman was skillful… but looking carefully she had less agility than small people. They both had shields, but Gendry could not use his own one, it was hanging. In a real combat he could die, so it was better for him to stay in the forge.

That was what she thought until they changed their weapons. The woman took a shield and he chose an enormous hammer, which was so big and heavy to lift. He moved it easily because he was strong, and the tall woman was dumped by his hits. 

Those hands of him were made for hammers. “Good job,” Arya said when he went to her, “I almost didn’t believe you could dump her.”

She gave him a cup of beer and he sat next to her. “Thanks. Lady Brienne’s a great warrior and she knows how to use her sword. I’m not so good but no one can defeat me when I use my hammer.”

His voice showed her he was satisfied of himself. He drank his beer fast and she gave him more. They ate together, talking about the hits that the poor boy named Podrick received. He was a squire and, surprisingly, Gendry liked his company and they were something like friends. Arya could hardly believe when he patted the squire on the back because Podrick was so shy and Gendry was so…sullen. He was sullen as always when he had to talk to woman. He avoided them, and just talked to Brienne of Tarth and her. The only thing that other woman got from him were grunts. “I remember you used your little sword to terrify Hot Pie”

She hit his arm. “That’s not true! I just wanted to make him feel afraid.”

“You lie,” he insisted, “you could slice his head lots of times, but I stopped you.”

“Shut your stupid mouth.”

Gendry laughed. “Well, maybe not. C’mon, I wanna show you something.” He offered her his hand and she accepted. They left the forest and went to the caves where was the settlement of the brotherhood. In the entrance were the heads of Walder Frey and his sons, bathed in tar. There were not so much people, most of men were sent to create disruption in the zone near of the Twins.

They went through the darkness until they reached the place where the forge was settled, a quiet place with a small fire burning. They were surrounded by weapons; between them, there was a shapeless bunch of blankets. “Don’t you use a mattress?” Arya asked while he removed between pig iron.

“I’m tall,” he said confused, “and I need space for those weapons.”

“Sounds uncomfortable. But you sleep alone, you’re lucky” A sarcastic smile appeared in her face. “I share my bed with two girls, and they don’t let me sleep.”

Gendry’ face was red like an apple; she was expecting that. He ignored her words and followed with his own things. Arya thought for second to ask him some space, the girls whose bed used to share were so talkative. _Idiot girl, he’d be scared of you,_ said a voice in her hand. _He’d probably never talk to you anymore because of shame._

True. Gendry treated her with a strange combination of fellowship and caution. He spent his free time with her. When someone tried to approach to her with bad intentions, he stopped them and it was much appreciated by her because the image of sweet girl was useful… and she did not desire to ruin it by showing her true personality. Even so, Gendry implicitly put a limit between them: he feared her. He did not fear because she was a killer, it was a bigger fear that Arya could not recognize completely. It was the conscience he had of her birth as the daughter of a nobleman. Yes, her blood was intervening in their friendship again. Maybe they were not destined to be in the same pack. “I was going to forge my first sword when Tobho Mott sent me to Yoren,” he grunted when he realized she was distracted. “He taught me how to work every kind of steel. I even know how to cast statues and manipulate dragonglass.” Gendry gave her a small object wrapped in a piece of fabric stained with ashes. “I’ve made lots of swords and I’d forge one for you, but you have one. I hope this will be useful for you.”

Arya never listened so many words from him; she was sure he had to practice that. Inside the fabric she found a shimmering dagger in a black sheath. Sharped, it looked like it was the brother of her Needle. There was a wolf with brilliant eyes of dragonglass in the hilt. No, it was not a wolf. It was a direwolf.

“It had to look like your sword,” he said.

Probably he spent part of his time for himself to work in the dagger. Arya stared at him for a while; he was waiting for an answer. She was going to say thanks but suddenly she felt so happy… and a little bit stupid. Impulsively, she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. This is one of the best gifts I have ever received, I swear.” She reminded the day where Jon gave her the sword. That was a happy day. A feeling of a lump in her throat stopped her words.

He was red before but after her kiss, his cheeks were more brilliant. His face was like a parchment she could read perfectly, he was nervous. But not in a bad way. He seemed ashamed. And happy.

The spell disappeared when Anguy interrupted them.

 _Gods, at least we were away of each other_ , she thought. _We are not doing something bad, but…_

“Gendry! News!” he yelled to Gendry while took him by his shoulders. “She is alive! The daughter of lady Stoneheart!”

“¿Sansa?” she asked without thinking. She could not believe it. Her sister alive!

“The young one,” said Anguy without realizing she could not know about it. “Arya Stark!”

“¿Arya? That’s not possible,” grunted Gendry.

“She is alive, idiot! How can you be so quiet? You were crazy when she disappeared, I can’t believe you don’t care about her now!”

The blue eyes contrasted with his red skin. He stared at her. Of course, Arya Stark was alive. Next to him. “You are so stupid! Gendry is surprised!” she yelled to Anguy. “Look at him, he cannot talk.”

Anguy relented, he felt sad for Gendry. They left the forge without any word.

Lady Stoneheart was crying; she could hear her even before they arrived at the place where she was sat. She was not alone. Some men were surrounding her, their faces showed many expressions like fear, anger of sadness.

Seeing her mother crying was terrifying, there was something supernatural. No one dared to interrupt until the red priest appeared and read the parchment. “Maybe is a false message, my lady,” he said. “The houses of Bolton and Lannister are allies. They may be lying.”

“Maybe they are trying to catch us,” added Harwin while staring at Arya.

“Edric Dayne wrote this, I recognize his handwriting.” Lady Stoneheart refused while tears fell from her tarnished eyes. “My daugther is in the camp of Stannis Baratheon, it is true, I know it.”. Quickly, she ordered to the members of the brotherhood to follow her. Gendry went with them after looking at Arya with a small expression of discomfort.

Of course, Arya was unwilling to stay there. She knew the place where the brotherhood talked about their things, a small cave with a wall covered of ivy. The stones there could hid her if she stayed in silence, so she followed them when she was sure people were not looking at her. Walking through a tunnel she closed her eyes, like the blind girl of Braavos. “Lord Stannis has a big army, we shall form and alliance with him,” said a voice she did not recognize.

In the distance, she could saw the light of some torches. She touched the rock until her hands found a pair of branches, thick enough to hold her. Arya climbed and climbed until she reached a Stone that felt robust and then stayed quiet as a dead body. “The big crow is her brother,” answered another voice. “He is in the camp too.”

“Jon Snow is a bastard,” coughed someone. “Bastards don’t have families.”

Arya did not know her brother was lord commander. She almost laughed; she knew the last voice was the voice of lady Stoneheart. Yes, it was. Catelyn Stark hated him when she was alive, and she hated her unknown mother too. _Wylla,_ she reminded, _her name is Wylla_. With some ivy branches she covered herself while some voices talked about the false Arya. The discussion was irritating her, it was useless to her. A centipede wrapped around her hand and she tried to ignore it until it left her.

“You are silent as a tomb,” she heard the voice of Anguy. “What are you thinking?”

People stopped talking to listen at him. Gendry did not talk until lady Stoneheart ordered him to share his thoughts; he explained their friendship when they were children and when she was kidnapped by the dog. For her he was obviously straining to lie, but at least he sounded convincing. “I don’t know,” he grunted, “you were there when the Hound stole her. The letter says the queen gave her to that man. How could she do it? Arya was lost.”

“They are sly. Maybe they found and hid her,” said Anguy.

“The letter says she was hidden since the death of her father.” Gendry insisted, his voice was angrier. “They lie. You knew her, and…”

“Enough!” yelled Harwin.

“My lady, what orders will you give us?”

After a long silence she ordered them to go. “Today there’s nothing more to do. Go back work. I’ll go to pray for guide. Don’t interrupt me.”

Carefully, Arya pressed herself to the ivy until they were away of the empty cave. She went to investigate; she searched until she found two small parchments which were taken with her to a lonely place. One of them had to be the letter she saw in her mother’s hand. One of them had some unfinished lines written by her mother to someone named Robin. The other one was a long sheet. The small script explained that Arya Stark was in the camp of Stannis Baratheon with Theon Greyjoy after they were defeated in a battle. Ramsay Bolton claimed for her, but Stannis was determined to keep her. Jon Snow wanted to keep her too.

A big hole opened her heart.

 _Jon must know she is not me,_ she said to herself. _I was his little sister; he played with me and messed my hair._ _Why did he belive her?_

A tear crossed her face. She dried it with courage and started to read again, with a feeling of helpless anger. The letters in the parchment were moving, she could not concentrate until she stopped to breath. The rest of it were things about war and Roose Bolton. Edric even transliterated the words of the last message from Ramsay Bolton to Stannis Baratheon.

**_“To the brother of the usurper._ **

**_The house of Baratheon is dead. Long live to our queen._ **

**_Her majesty hid Arya Stark since the death of the traitor who was his father to give her to me as my wife: I am the warden of the North and an injured husband._ **

**_I want her again._ **

**_I know you keep her._ **

**_Winterfell is mine. The winter throne is mine. Arya Stark is mine._ **

**_If you do not give her to me, I am going to burn your camp. I am going to crush your entire army like the cockroaches they are. I am going to flay alive your man, woman and children. I am going to impale your savages._ **

**_You are a shade of your past. The house of Baratheon is dead, the only way you can fight against me is if your brothers raise from their tombs. The bastards of the usurper may do the same: the queen sent all of them to hell._ **

**_I have been patient. If you do not return her to me, you will suffer my anger. I am going to slay you with my own hands while my men rape your wife and daughter. I am going to cut your body for my dogs._ **

**_You can tell Snow he is a coward._ **

**_Ramsay Bolton._ ** **_Lord of Winterfell and warden of the North.”_ **

Ramsay seemed like he was not joking.

Arya returned the parchments to the cave and walked until the river. She needed to be alone. What could she do? She wanted to see her brother. She wanted to be in her house, even if that meant to serve the brother of the old king and fight until her death. Even if she had to be a boy again. She was going to need some food, a horse, coins… lots of things. She sat in a small boat tied in the water’s edge and thought. If she truly desired to see Jon again, she had to go soon. War was unpredictable, he could die. But he could not die after seeing her again. She wanted to be there to obligate him leaving the camp. He had to go to his brothers of the Wall, away of kings and their battles. Jon had to live. He was the last person of her family.

Some footsteps stopped her thinking.

“What will you do,” said Gendry.

She looked at his reflection in the water. “Nothing.” She stood and try to go but Gendry blocked her before she could leave the boat.

“You lie,” he grunted. “You wanna see the other Arya.”

“Yes,” she recognized defiant, “and if you don’t move, I will kill you. I don’t mind about killing you.”

His face contracted with pain. “I won’t stop you,” he whispered looking away. “I know you want to see you brother again. He is fighting with Stannis Baratheon.”

“Won’t you stop me?”

She hardly believed that.

“No, I know you’ll return to your home,” he grunted looking at her again. “I’ll go with you.”

_What?_

The disregard mask she had constructed was ruined. The kindly man was right, she was not a good liar as she thought she was. Gendry was not teasing her; the tight line of his mouth indicated her he was not going to fight but following her. She could mislead him in the forest, but he was so stupid and stubborn enough to travel the North until reaching her. He could die, he did not know anything about the cold and northern people. “You can’t follow me, is dangerous.”

“I will,” he insisted, “I won’t leave you alone. I should not have stayed with the brotherhood. I didn’t want to leave you, but it was the same at the end. I will take you to the North and I’ll forge your swords. Do you remember that?”

Suddenly, a smile appeared in Arya’s face and she could not control it. For a moment, she imagined herself on a stallion with Gendry following her, just them riding to her castle. A stupid idea. Her castle was full of enemies. The hole in her heart became bigger, people who loved her had to leave and people who stayed were condemned to die. She was cursed. A lone wolf girl, a bloody girl who smelt like death. A dark heart. “You may die, Gendry.”

He laughed. “Maybe, but I’m stupid enough to follow you.”

For a moment she considered to kick his balls and to push him into water… to flee. But it was not the best idea. She just had to accept him. “I’ll go tonight. You can follow me or not, but I’ll leave and tomorrow I won’t be here,” she said looking at his eyes. “Your horse must be ready at the hour of the wolf. Bring weapons, I’ll got some food. We’ll meet in the northern limit; I’ll make away with the guards.”

“I’ll do that,” he grunted while helping her to leave the boat.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

Gendry shod their horses for the long travel. Arya was most of time near of him to fill their saddlebags; clothes, food, soap… lots of things. She hid everything while Gendry worked hard. At dawn she was a lone wolf, but that night she was not going to be alone anymore.

After the first stars shone, they went to eat with the rest of people. Lady Stoneheart was not there, so she still praying. Arya ate until her stomach was full and told Gendry to do the same. He was sat next to her like he was her guard, watching her to avoid her escape. “It’s time,” she said when people started to move away, “go for the guards. Take the horses after it.”

He said yes moving his head. She left him and walked to the dark caves, where she closed her eyes until she heard a wounded throat. Yes, it was the breathing of lady Stoneheart. She was alone, sat in front of a broken crown made of dark metal and a small bell. A delicate golden light from an oil lamp made Arya remember how beautiful she used to be. “I order people to get away. No one has my permission to be here.”

“I’m no one.”

Arya have not been that close of her mother’s body since she saw her dying. The face had deep scars, the tarnished eyes seemed not so blue, the pale skin was white as a skull and painted with dark hematomas and coagulated blood. She did not have her long beautiful hair. “You are audacious,” the woman said without her hand in his neck, showing blood and cartilage. “Do you fear me?”

“No.”

Her steps were so silent because she did not want to alert lady Stoneheart.

“My youngest daughter was audacious,” she whispered, watching at the crown again, “she must be scared.”

The grey eyes closed because that was the moment. Arya furled the cold body and covered the lips, which were colder. The frozen heart was pierced with her dagger. “Your daughter is alive mother,” she gasped. “I hope you’ll meet father again.”

The blue eyes were empty but, slowly, the pupils got bigger and a small blaze peeped out. There was a tear.

Lady Stoneheart, her mother, recognized her.

She tried to talk but death was faster.

After giving her the gift of mercy, Arya had no time to cry. She did not desire to leave the body there, but she was not going to waste her time by graving it.

She reminded the boat. The least she could do for her mother was sending her to her ancestors. Her common sense told her it was stupid, but she did not mind about it so, she went for a blanket. The forge was relatively near; Gendry had lots of them which were useful. Arya run as she never done before.

While she was searching, Gendry went into the place with a torch. She got angry as hell and asked him why he was there and no taking care of their horses. “I tied them,” he answered nervous, “What are you doing here?

“Shut your bloody mouth and follow me.”

Arya gave him the best blanket and took the torch. Sometimes she glanced behind to be sure there were no people watching them. They reached her mother’s body. Gendry gasped when he saw her, but he kept his mouth closed and helped her to involve the corpse in the deteriorated fabric. He carried it to the river while Arya had between her hands the oil lamp and the crown.

Gendry disposed her mother gently inside the boat. Arya opened the piece of fabric to see her face for last time. The white semblant seemed more human, more like Catelyn Stark of Winterfell than lady Stoneheart of the brotherhood. Two red tears dried in the white skin, which once was the skin of her mother. The crown was placed between her cold hands.

Silent as a spirit, Arya kissed the forehead of Catelyn and then dumped the oil over the boat and dropped the torch. Gendry cut the ropes and they saw the boat going away with the water.

Arya felt a little bit like an idiot, but at the same time she felt better.

They went for their horses. Arya waited to see some dead bodies near of two horses but there was a small group of people talking while some horses took on frisky airs. “What’s this?” she grunted to Gendry. “You were going to kill the guards!”

“I didn’t know Harwin was the guard tonight,” he grunted too. “I thought you didn’t want them dead.”

He was right but he did not have to tell that so openly. The group was composed by Harwin, the tall woman, the squire, the rest of the brotherhood members… “Do they know my name?”

“We know who you are,” said Thoros, “and we’ll go with you, wolf girl. We are breaking the oath we made to lady Stoneheart, but my god and yours will forgive us. You mother would understand.”

Her gasp interrupted him. “She is dead. You are free to go.”

The tall woman, Brienne, looked at her with a strange interest in her big eyes. “My lady, I swore for my honor to protect you and your sister of evilness.” She gave the harnesses of her horse to Podrick and bent her knee in front of her. “I fought to deliver, and most of time I thought I had failed. I’m begging, let me serve you until the day of my death.”

Brienne was so tall, even in that position she still taller than her. The blonde head was looking at the ground so Arya could not see her face, but the voice of the woman told her she was not lying. The rest of people imitated her except for Gendry, who knew how much she hated knees on the ground. “Lady Brienne is loyal as you haven’t seen,” assured Harwin. “Please, let us go with you.”

“Stand up,” snarled Arya. “If you really want to follow me, I won’t stop you. We will go to the camp of Stannis to meet my brother. You are free to go when if you want to. No one may call me like a lady, or I swear you will regret. Let us go out of here.”

They obeyed her and they mounted their horses, so she ordered Harwin and Thoros to guide them betweer the forest. Then, she moved her stallion until the end of the line to observe horsemen and take care of them. Gendry stayed near of her and for once, she did not give him a reprimand.

The road was dark and full of danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted a good end for Catelyn, she truly loved her children. I think death is better for her because she is just like a shell full of anger (?). I don't think making a obat in the middle of the night is a good idea but whatever, Arya will be far away.
> 
> In A Dance of Dragons Stannis is supossed to be dead but in Winds of Winter we know he is alive and I hope he is alive :3
> 
> I don't know why but I think Ramsay likes to write weird letters for his enemies :o


	14. Chapter 14

“I almost can’t believe she is Arya Stark,” laughed Anguy while revising his arrows.

Gendry was sat next to him, they had to make sure they were safe of thieves and outlaws. He followed the eyes of Anguy: Arya was sleeping away of the rest of people, wrapped in many blankets that made her look like a small child. There was something brilliant between her hands, a dagger. He desired to feel happy because it was the one that he gave to her but something in the way she held it made him feel a bad thing in his stomach. She held it like she was going to pierce anybody who tried to hurt her. _Probably someone tried to attack her while she was sleeping,_ he thought bitterly. It was posible. He stared at her; her eyelashes were like two black sickles. Moist because of tears. She was sleeping, but her face still tense, like she could not forget the pain and fear even being unconscious. War made her lose the happiness and innocence of childhood.

Someone had to take care of her in the past, but he, an idiot, stayed with the brotherhood. Gendry cursed himself and his stupid pride. He liked the way men treated him and their friendship, but he liked her too. She was so smart, funny, and he could trust her. He was shy around women because his status of bastard, but everything was different with Arya, she never treated him like he was less than her despite her birth. He reminded the first time he saw her next to Yoren’s cart, when he thought she was a girl with her brother’s clothes. A small annoying little girl who never lost the chance to ask strange things. But she was nice. Very nice. She became his best friend. The only one he ever had. But at the end, the small girl was able to protect herself.

She did not need him.

She did not need him, but he wanted to help her. He could not do so much so he decided to make her life a little bit easier hoping she was not going to notice him. When there was something heavy to move, he ran to lift it before she had the idea of trying. If she decided to go hunting, he always went after her, under the pretext of looking for wood or wild fruits. He was never tired enough of helping her to clean horses, to feed them or examining horseshoes, even if he knew it was stupid to do it more than once by day… but at least he could be next to her without people realizing about him. Or almost. Anguy knew what he felt better than himself. Thoros and Lem had stupid smiles when they saw him close to Arya, but they kept their mouths closed. “Gendry, did you tell her?” Anguy insisted.

“Tell her what?”

Unfortunately, Anguy was so annoying when he was curious. Like a gossiping old woman. “I know you know,” he said with a stupid smile. “She wasn’t so pretty when she was a child, but she is so pretty. She is beautiful! In a strange way, I must recognize.”

“Why is she strange?” Gendry asked inquisitive.

“I wouldn’t try to talk to her,” answered Anguy, happy of made him take the bait. “You may look at her, but she would cut your balls instead of answer. She tricked us with her sweet face. Maybe, if she would wear a pretty dress…”

“I don’t think she would do that,” Gendry frowned confused. “I don’t think is important if she likes manly clothes or keep her mouth closed. I think she is smart.”

“You must recognize is a waste of her beauty,” the archer gave him a pat on his back. “I know you like her. You should tell her. Maybe she likes grumpy scaring boys.”

Gendry hit him but not so much because he could knock him. Anguy laughed like he was crazy the rest of the night. _What could I tell her? She is a lady and I am a bastard,_ he said to himself. _I can’t love her. I’m not in love. I’m just his friend and I care for her._

His next nights and days were full of those ideas. Maybe he was knight of the Hollow Hill but he still a bastard. Arya was the daughter of the lord of the North and she grew in a castle. In peaceful times she could not be allowed to look or talk to him. He felt a strange feeling of anger when he thought about their differences, but he could not understand himself. There was an unbridgeable abyss between them. At the end of the war she was going to stay with the rest of her family if they were alive, as the lady she was. Then, she was going to wed someone who could offer her the world: a lord, a king or one of those rich foreigners who owned cities which were bigger than the whole continent.

“Gendry,” whispered Podrick a day when he was angrier than usual, “lady Brienne and lady Stark will fight like knight. Why don’t we go to see them?”

Gendry followed him. He knew Arya could protect herself, but she did not have the years of training of a knight. Brienne was so tall, and she had lots of experience. Of course, she was not going to hurt Arya but the idea of seeing a small girl fighting against an enormous knight gave him a stomachache. He sat next to Podrick, who seemed tired after her own time practicing with his sword. Arya just wore a coat of mail and leather clothes and when she glanced behind and noticed them, she smiled. Was she going to fight without an armour? Was she crazy?

The swords were unsheathed and crushed for the enjoyment of men. Since the beggining, Arya has a small asset beacuse she was more agile and fast. Maybe the armour was not necessary. He could forge some light plates to protect the vulnerable parts of her body and a helmet. A wolf helmet to terrify her enemies.

Brienne was limited by metal; Arya moved side by side, she crossed her sword and stared at the tall woman. Her grey eyes were comlpletely closed sometimes. Was it magic? Hells, no, it was not. Someone taught her how to fight. She could dominate herself. She used both hands to hold her sword and that confused him and Brienne. Suddenly, she threw her sword away and put her knife next to Brienne’s neck. Terrifying.

Woman were so happy of discovering their own skills and weaknesses. Men were shocked. Especially Harwin. It must be hard for him, strange. The small girl who always was between feet of knights was a strong woman. Very strong.

The sun was in the highest place of sky when Anguy hunted a deer. That afternoon the ate very well and Podrick Payne took a small flute. Sun fell fast while the last notes of the song of the Seven were played. “Who will be the guard tonight?” asked Lem.

“Gendry,” said Arya, “then I’ll guard you.”

After eating, she went to search animals in the traps they extended days before. She rejected the offers of companion, so they went to sleep while Gendry took his place. He desired to follow her just to be sure she was safe, but he did not. That could make her angry. 

Sky was dark as the mouth of a wolf. A small rain made the place colder, but it was not enough to extinguish fire. He was worried because Arya was alone. They were a threatening group of people, but their weapons and horses could attract the attention of thieves. They used to wait until one of the members left so they could capture him… or her. They used to sell orphans as slaves.

Fortunately, he had not time for worrying because Arya was faster than he thought. She had two rabbits between her cold hands. “Lem is going to swallow the forest,” he said. “Good hunting.”

Arya messed her hair and some seeds and pine needles fell. “We’ll have rabbit stew. Meat will be scarce.” Her cheeks were red. Trembling, she went to the fire and washed her hands with the water someone left for her after dropping the rabbits in an empty bucket. Some wine was warmed and when it was ready, she gave him a cup. “Is a strong wine, you shouldn’t drink so much,” he said when she smelt her own cup. “You may finish drunk as hell.”

“I won’t drink that much, but I used to drink a lot in Braavos,” she smiled while applying some spices he did not know in the cups. “All people drank wine there because water was so expensive. But they prepared wine in an especial way to be sure their soldiers were not going to be drunk.”

“Do you learn to fight there?”

Her pale face shadowed, and Gendry repented of asking. He did not think about it, the words just fled from his mouth. He was going to ask for an apology, but she talked first. “In the temple where I served, we had to be ready for death.” Her voice was soft, almost without any life. “A girl there taught me because the principal priest ordered her to do it.”

After a long silence, he dared to talk again. “What happened?”

“I learnt and practiced until I couldn’t do anything more. I did everything to be better every day and the priest sent me to a playhall, he wanted me to learn how to control my feelings,” she grunted. “I learnt everything, but I was sick of that and decided to come back here.”

What did she mean with _everything_? Girls who worked in those places were always in trouble. Men did not respect them, and woman enjoyed laughing of their misery. Slappers, sluts, whores… Gendry heard terrifying stories about that. “Did someone tried to hurt you? Were you rejected by people?”

He did not matter about the distance between Westeros and Braavos, if someone dared to touch one hair of her head, he was going to avenge her honor. For his confusion, Arya started to smile like he was so funny. “Folks of Braavos are more tolerant than our people, believe it or not. They were so nice to me, but I was tired.” She sat near of him, not so far. “I could stay in the temple even after violating some rules but doing that meant to forget my family, my home, my friends… everything.”

Arya bit his lip and looked at her wine. Gendry did not understand so much, but he was very thankful of having her again. So, he tried to get more information. “Why did you travel there? You could stay with us.”

“Do you remember when we traveled with Yoren? There were three men in a cart. I saved them that night when men of Armory Lorch burnt the keep. One of them was a braavosi… he wasn’t dangerous,” she told him seeing him frowning. “He gave me a coin I could use to go there. When I was alone, I thought to go with you, but I was scared.”

“Why?”

There were lots of possible answers.

“It was a long travel and I had nothing. People looked at me with courage and fear, I was at the edge of despair when I found a braavosi ship. Braavosis are nice people,” she whispered closing her eyes. “Years ago, my father asked a braavosi to teach me how to use my sword. His name was Syrio Forel. He died to help me flee when my father was arrested.”

Gendry gasped. “You… were right to flee. War was cruel. We suffered hungriness, peasants died, wheat is burnt. Lords don’t stop the battles,” he grunted remembering the danger that war meant for children. “You are so strong, you know. Your father would be pride. And your teacher.”

She opened her eyes and looked at sky. “Syrio would feel pride… but my father wouldn’t be. He would feel ashamed of knowing things I did. I can’t imagine what my mother could think, I’m almost happy they are dead because they won’t know that I’m a killer.”

“What are you saying? Are you crazy?” he was talking so much, but he knew he had to tell her what he felt. “You are the smartest person I know and the strongest. You’ve survived horrible things. I think they would feel a lot of pride.”

A pair of sad eyes stared at his, then she changed her expression to a cheeky one. “Just a fool like you can say that. Maybe my brother Jon would be pride, but he is not a fool like you. He is smart, he likes astronomy, he is funny and very ingenious…”

“Be serious!” he knew Arya was joking, but she knew his weaknesses and a strange idea arrived in his head; _I would like to be funny and ingenious like his brother._ He did not know why, but if Arya could perceive him as she did with her brother…

The joy in her eyes disappeared. “I say it because you are. You are a fool because you stay with me. You shall leave me and the brotherhood to have a long life.”

“Arya…”

“Go to sleep. Is my turn to make the guard.”

He obeyed. They did not talk for a few days, except for little things. Harwin told them they were near of Moat Cailin, a city constructed by First Men and Brandon the Builder to protect the North of their enemies. Andals. Arya told him years ago she had a brother named like him. Gendry pressed his harnesses with a feeling of sadness when he realized he was probably dead, and Arya was going to suffer for him.

Vegetation was dense, of a brilliant green. They crossed come black ruined blocks of stone, covered of ivy and moss. They arrived at a big swamp, that made their steps slower. Rocks were ulpholstered of purple flowers. “Everything here is dangerous. Don’t touch those flowers. Especially you, my lady. I know you like brilliant colors.” Arya laughed when she received his reprimand. “I’m talking seriously.”

“I would love to see a lizard lion,” she said showing a small lake. “Mycah told me they are waiting under the mud for eating people.”

She smiled sweetly and Gendry felt jealous. Who was that boy, Mycah? The name was known by him, but he could not remember. “Does those flowers have name?” asked someone to her.

“Yes, poison kisses. We must dismount. We’re are going to slow.”

“You are right, my lady. We are to heavy for them in this ground and we don’t need wounded animals,” answered Harwin. “We must take their reins.”

Their feet touched the ground and they subsided in the mud. Particularly, Gendry was so tall and heavy compared to others, mud was covering his calves. Brienne was even taller and heavier, so she was in a worst situation. All of them had problems to walk except for Arya, who was so small and light.

His horse stamped. The poor animal was so nervous, and he could not blame it. Gendry tried to control the horse, but it was not used to the ground of the swamp, giving kicks when his paws stepped on unstable land. “We are not in the North, but we are near.” A small hand petted the nose of the animal until it calmed down. “This swamp separe us of the other kingdoms.”

“Where’s the snow?”

Gendry did not know how the North was, but he knew snow was like a big cristal because he saw a big block melting in the house of a lord who bought some swords to Tobho Mott. Snow was cold, rich people used it to keep their houses fresh in summer. The landscape they saw was like the forest of southern places. “Snow? In Winterfell. The North is bigger than the rest of the realms,” she sighed,” we had reach Moat Cailin. We traveled twenty-three days and we are going to arrive soon, there are just two roads and we must be careful. We could try to go through other swamps but without a guide we may lose.”

“Anguy says people of the swamp eat frogs,” he said, “and he thinks they are savages. Is that true?”

“Crannogmen? Hells, no. I mean, they eat frogs and craws, but they are not savage,” she answered thoughtful. “The lord of the house Reed is their head and he was a friend to my father. A real one. And frogs are better than insects, believe me.”

In a moment, mud became in firm ground and they found a place to rest, which was relatively dry. They dismounted to set fire. In a place like that there were no thieves, swamp was too dangerous for them. That night they were going to sleep properly. Harwin and Lem went to hunt and Brienne served the last of wine they had. “This one is too strong,” she said twitching her nose, “but I’m not sure bilge water is sure to drink.”

Arya seemed like she was smelling something disgusting. Anguy laughed when he saw her face. “Your gods will be angry if you reject their gift.” She laughed too. “It tastes sour. I’ll go for some water, there was a river behind us.”

She tied her boots and left them. “Gendry better go with her,” Thoros winked at him. “You must protect your lady.” Some people laughed and he felt so embarrassed.

He followed the small footprint. She was not so far. “What are you doing?”, she said when he reached her. “You should be in the camp.”

“I’ll help you to collect water. I don’t like that wine.”

“How will you collect it? With your bare hands?” He realized he forgot to bring a bucket, and she seemed like she had lots of fun. “You are lucky I brought one.”

The buckle flew to his hands. Arya moved so fast, sometimes she stared at the ground until it was wet. They found a river and followed it until they saw a small lake covered of pink flowers. “Can we drink that water?” he asked.

“If you drink, you’ll feel a terrible stomachache and you won’t walk a few days,” she answered. “This is stagnant water, too cold for southern people. Fill the bucket. We’ll put it on the heat and then let it cool.”

Gendry obeyed, introducing his arm into water. It was colder than he thought, but he did. Arya wove a strange string with some plants that grew out of the lake. Her fingers were so fast, but she seemed so pacific, so he desired to say something nice to her, but he did not know what. He just observed her until she tied a small brilliant brooch after tying the string on a long branch. “Stay here and get some fishes. I’ll come back soon,” she said giving him the improvised rod.

Fishes were easy to catch. He got a small pile soon, so he watched around him. There was a small apple tree, with some fruits in the branches. He was collecting them when he heard some steps behind him. Arya. Her cheeks were red, her long hair tangled with some leaves and small flowers which could fell from nowhere. She was like a day of sun in the middle of winter. With an empty buckle.

Again, he desired to say something, but his words were tuck on his throat.

“I ran fast because I didn’t want to leave you alone,” she said. “Good fishing. What are you doing?”

He showed her the apples and they collected lots of them. He used his cloak to wrap them and then, they cleaned the fishes. Gutting them was so disgusting, but Arya seemed like it was not a problem for her. She was even good at doing that. They spent a lot of time there before going to their camp.

There, they saw an unknown man near of fire. They stared at him with curiosity and he stared at them curious too. He had green eyes. “My lady, you shouldn’t go so far,” said Harwin. “The same, Gendry. We met an allí. An old friend.”

Arya seemed surprised of seeing the man, who bent his knee in front of her. “My apologies my lord, but your face is unknown to me.”

“I have not left my home since the death of your father, my lady,” he said with a soft, hypnotic voice. “My name is Howland Reed. I’m the head of the tribes of the Neck and I’m here to serve you.”

They sat near of fire, and the man explained that Moat Cailin was seized by Bolton, whose soldiers flayed men who defended the keep. That road was dangerous. Howland offered them to help them. There were roads that crossed the swamp and just the natives of the Neck knew their existence, so they could reach Stannis Baratheon. “Eddard Stark was my friend,” he said, “and I’m the friend of his family.”

“Thanks for your offer,” said Arya. “Bolton moves fast, as we can see.”

“You have your father’s eyes. You face looks like his too.”

Arya seemed sad when she heard him. But she accepted, and the next day, they started their travel.

After some time, they arrived in the Wolfswood. It was so cold, a snowy landscape where Gendry saw the real winter for first time. And the real snow.

They were in the North.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's another chapter of Sansa. I dunno like her so much, but she is so important, so (?)

“The charges against you are withholding information to the lords declarant and hampering the legitimate claim of Sansa Stark as heir of the North. What do you have to say, lord Baelish?”

The seats of the lords were carved in white stone and they were dressed in feathered bluish grey tunics. They seemed like falcons stalking their prey. The tribunal was presided by Bronze Yohn, not by Robert. A decision that annoyed Sansa. In her mind, her Sweetrobin could judge Petyr and let him free soon, because Robert was afraid of him. But reality was different, Petyr was the lord paramount of the Trident, and a high lord could not be judged by a child. Even if that child was the lord of the Vale. Bronze Yohn was dangerous, but at least Petyr was intelligent, so intelligent... but something in her face made her doubt.

“I am guilty,” he said humbly, “but I had a reason. I lied to protect lady Sansa, my niece, of the Lannister house. I can’t say I regret.”

The blue fabric of Sansa’s dress made her hair shine with a special light. Sat next to Robert, she seemed like a beautiful lady with a sweet face, taking care of a lovely child with lovely hair who was not looking around him. Of course, Robert was bored as could be a child between adults. Sometimes he played with a small doll, sometimes he yelled because there was a bird in a window… and she had to tell him to stay quiet. Robert obeyed for a time and then he started to playagain. Sansa received an unexpected hug from him because Harry the heir was staring at her while she stared at the rings in her hands, like those brilliant stones were so interesting.

She did not desire to look at him.

“That’s a noble decision. And I am the spirit of Alysa Arryn. We all know your tongue is sweet like honey,” said lady Waynwood. Her own old tongue was sharped. “I recognize you are very clever, but you are ambitious too. That made you lose because you could not count with lady Sansa’s honesty. She confessed when she has the opportunity; lord Arryn and Bronze Yohn say she is truly noble even if you tried to make her a liar.”

There was a something not quite right in Petyr’s eyes when she was called to give her testimony. For a reason she did not know, she thought he was feeling like her mother was betraying him. Again.

No. Her mother never made any promise to him, she was betrothed to the son of a lord and she was decided to keep her father’s promise. Petyr was lying to himself if he thought about that.

Her mother could never love a liar. “I swear to tell the truth in front of the gods and men,” she sweetly talked to no one, simulating she was scared.

The truth was she was not simulating.

“Petyr Baelish claimed himself lord protector of the Vale after lady Lysa’s death. He tried to take our will and destiny” the voice of Bronze Yohn was neutral, indifferent. “We are loyal to the crown. You are a fugitive, but you are the niece of our lords. We could not give you to Lannister as a prisoner, they did not have reasons to keep you. Lord Baelish didn’t let your family protect you, my lady. And he didn’t let us show our loyalty to our lords. What do you have to say?”

Just for once, Petyr depended on her.

“My lords,” she whispered, “I ask with my heart in my hand your mercy for lord Petyr. He didn’t have cruel intentions.”

A general surprised received her words. Petyr did not move but his face seemed a little bit happier. The lords declarant seemed like sculptures. “Maybe his intentions were not cruel, but he did not inform us. He may be considered a traitor.”

A slight shiver ran down her body. What if Petyr was considered guilty? She knew he could handle everything, but wat could happen if her own movement to destabilize him was too far? Could she wed Sweetrobin and staying in the Vale the rest of her life? Between strangers? That was not something she desired. “He did! He told my aunt but she…” her voice trembled. “She was afraid. She was going to wait and then talk to you, but she was… she was…”

Her voice finally broke and some tears appeared in her eyes. Sansa dried them but then she reminded the words of the queen. Tears were weapons, the weapons of women.

She cried loud as she could, and Robert ran to her fro his seat. “Don’t cry, please!” he said wrapping her between his small arms.

He was annoying her.

“I’m well, my Sweetrobin,” she whispered in his ear. “Please, come back to your place. We’ll go eating after this together. Do you want?”

Robert obeyed. Lady Anya stared at her with a sour expression. “Dry your tears and continue.”

“I’m sorry,” she cried, “those are terrible memories. You all know the story of the singer Marillion.”

“We do.”

“When I talked to you, I could not confess everything because I felt so ashamed, but I can’t let you blame lord Petyr as a traitor because he is innocent. Marillion loved my aunt and his love made him crazy. He tried to involve her, but she ignored him because his passion was just like the love for his lady… but lord Petyr decided to send his guards to protect me.”

“Why?”

“He felt suspicious… he thought Marillion could try to dishonor me to punish him, because lord Petyr had the love of my aunt. Lady Lysa felt panic when I told her what was happening, and she decided to hide my identity because she was afraid for me. If he could know I was her beloved niece, he could do something worse to punish her. And if people could know I was there… we were afraid.”

Sansa felt disgusted of herself when she mixed her horrible story with Marillion and lies. She reminded the fear she felt when he told her those horrible words of lust, why was she so weak? Why? In the song, ladies were often dishonored when they were alone in the world. Maybe she needed a protector. Maybe she was weak. She stared at Petyr. _No,_ she decided. _I am the only one who can protect myself. But I need him to make my future sure. Just for this time._

“We cannot ignore her words,” said Lyn Cobray”, she was safe because of him. Protecting lady Sansa was obvioulsy more important than our pride.”

“Lord Petyr was the only friend I had in King’s Landing,” she mumbled, “he was the one who rescued me when the king was threatening me. He told my aunt we had to confess it to you, but as I told you, she was terrified- and he couldn’t talk without her permission. Lord Petyr was lady Lysa’s husband and friend of my mother. He is our friend. I beg your mercy because he did not act with a bad intention. Please.” Sansa went to her seat with a big desire of crying again, but she had to keep her tears away. The lords left the room to talk alone and nobody moved.

After a long time, they appeared. “Petyr Baelish,” said Bronze Yohn, “you are free of the charges against you.”

Petyr’s shoulders relaxed; he was satisfied and stared at her with a brilliant smile. Lady Anya was smiling too. Why was she smiling? She hated him. “We haven’t finish. You are the husband of the deceased lady Lysa and after her death you took Robert Arryn under your wing,” grumped Bronze. “We decided to remove you from your charge and name lady Sansa his tutor. That means she will take care of the Vale with the title of lady regent. We signed a document where we accept to obey her.”

The cheeks of Petyr lost their color. “She is too young. She is just seventeen. She is a child, and Robert…”

“She is a woman, and Robert is going to be a man. They will receive our help and advice.” The smile of lady Anya was like the smile of a beast. “Lord Robert is going to marry her in two or three years and ruling the Vale will be her task. Better if she learn now.”

“No!” yelled Harrold. “She was promised to me! She is mine!”

Harrold left his place and ran to the lords. The high seats did not scare him, neither their jewels, neither their frozen eyes. 

Robert yelled from his seat too. “Shut up, Harry! Sansa won’t marry you; she loves me! I’ll make you fly! I’ll make you fly, and we’ll laugh of you because you don’t have wings!”

“Close your mouth, stupid child! You are just that, a child, and she can’t love you as a man!”

Harrold seemed like he lost his head. Sansa could not believe when Robert jumped and ran to Harry, hitting him with his small fists. The shaking of his hands was worse than other days, his body was like a leaf moved by wind. Harrold stared at him and held the skinny childish body, trying to avoid his hits and stopping him- Robert was in danger of damaging himself.

After all, he was a child.

The scandal made by Robert relegated Petyr to the shadows.

Before Robert could do something worse to Harrold or himself, the master tried to give him a calming potion. Robert did not obey, even if Harry held him with all his force to ease the master attempts. It was not functional, and the child got angrier, screaming he was going to expulse all of them by the Moon Gate until Sansa decided to stop him. She took the spoon from the hands of the maester.

“Sweetrobin, you need the pocim to feel better,” she said knowing people was watching and evaluating her. With a cold glance, Harrold let Robert, who went to her crying.

“Harry thinks I’m a child!” he yelled. “I’m his lord!”

Sansa stood closer to the boy. “Ser Harrold is angry and sad because we are not betrothed anymore,” she whispered to his ear, “you shall forgive him to show your kindness.”

“Knights are noble and generous,” answered Robert.

With no forces to fight anymore, Robert accepted the pocim, and stared at Harrold, who was ashamed of his own behavior. He told him with his lord voice that he forgave his wrath in a way that made people laugh. Harry seemed like a big child.

 _Both are children,_ Sansa thought while taking the small hand of Robert between her own one. “Maester, please take lord Robert to his room,” ordered Bronze Yohn. “Ser Harrold, you were betrothed to Alayne Stone, a bastard. Lord Robert is going to wed Sansa Stark, the daughter of Eddard Stark and Catellyn Tully. She is the lady of the North since her family disappeared.”

Before leaving Sansa could hear him and her heart broke. It was true. His father was a traitor, her mother and brother were traitors too, murdered in the castle of lord Frey. She did not know so much, just pieces she got from the conversation of knights and servants. And talking about her family, she had no idea of the destiny of Arya, she was dead for sure. Sansa was so ashamed and felt guilty because she did not even think about her when her father died. She just thought about Joffrey. Just Joffrey. She wished he were burning in the seven hells. Bran and Rickon were children, they could be in the North… but she could not know because Petyr controlled the information she could get. The mountains of the Vale were a prison.

Jon was forgotten, he was not his brother. He was just her half-brother, same blood but nothing more. Sansa used to feel terribly abashed when she reminded her own attitude to him and his bastard status. But at the end, it did not matter because he was a man of the Wall. And men of the Wall had no family, so she just had herself.

And she had Robert.

The boy was resting between the blankets of his bed. He was examined by the maester and then the maids give him some milk, so, he was quiet and happy. Sansa ordered the rest of people she wanted to be alone with Robert. “Lord Petyr wanted you to wed Harry,” he said sadly, “but Harry hates me. He wants to murder me.”

Sansa grabbed his cheek. “My lord must not believe that. Ser Harrold is just sad; I don’t believe he is evil. And you know lord Petyr loves you so much.”

“Maybe you are right. But Harry wants my castle. And he wants you.”

The idea of a new wedding was not so pleasant. Sansa was the wife of Tyrion Lannister, what could the lords do for her? She just could wait for the death of Tyrion, but she did not want him dead. She hoped the queen could never find him, he was ugly and rude… but he was like the knights of the songs, his appearance was not an impediment for him to have a kind heart. “Don’t care about it, Sweetrobin. We’ll marry soon and you’ll give me the cloak of Arryn.”

“Will you tell me stories?”

“Yes, I swear. We’ll sit together and eat pastries. And I ‘ll embroidery your clothes. You will love me so much, am I right?”

“Yes, I will. I love you more than anyone.”

His soft breathing indicated her he was sleeping, so she could go. When she reached the door, she stared at him, who seemed so quiet. The light of a candle was shining on his hair, which was so beautiful. His wife will love Robert’s hair… if he could live enough to marry a woman.

Sansa crossed the castle until her room. It was a little bit small, but she liked it, even if the lords offered her a better one when they knew who she was. She liked the stone that covered the walls because it was like the stone from her room in Winterfell, it made her feel sure.

The wind blew through an open window. It was so cold, so she went to close it thinking that probably one of her maids forgot to do it. She stayed there for a while, with her hand on the frame of the window. With her eyes closed, she could think she was in the North with her friend, Jeyne, embroidering something for her brothers. Jeyne could stop and watch through the glass to show her the bravery of Robb, who could be fighting against a soldier… and Arya could be spying them. That was what she reminded at listening the yells of children and the sound of the animals. “You shall close the window.”

Petyr was besides the door.

She closed the window. He locked the room.

“My maids are careless,” she whispered shy. “Do you need something, my lord?”

“Sansa,” he said walking to her, “you suffered because of your name. I gave you freedom and a new identity. Why did you do it? Why did you betray me?”

She was taken by surprise when he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her closer. “¡I did not, I swear!” she yelled because of the pain. “Bronze Yohn knew who I was, since the beggining! He forced me to wash my hair in front of the lords until the tint was gone!”

His face seemed more relaxed, but not at all. “So… you did not betray me.”

She cried. “I had to confess at the end. They told me they were going to kill me if I still lying to them. They showed me a whip to break me, Joffrey always ordered his guards whipping me until I bled! I couldn’t resist!”

“Didn’t you betray me?” he insisted.

“I was not the one who told them. I could never hurt my only friend.”

Petyr smiled, pleased. He stared at her an got closer and closer until his lips found hers. The kiss she received was sweet, long. Petyr did not bite her lips, he did not try to put his tongue inside her mouth, but she felt disgusted and terrified. “You are so beautiful, Sansa. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he told. “Gods, you are even more beautiful than your mother. Your aunt could not reach you.” With a sad smile he left her go. Sansa avoided his eyes and served two glasses of wine. “Could you love me, Sansa?”

The glass of wine almost fell from her hands. She was not prepared for that. “I…”

“I understand you cannot give me an answer right now, but I think you may learn to love me.”

She tried to find an answer, but she could not; he left her after kissing her lips again. Sansa was disconnected of the rest of the world for many days, like her body was a shell without spirit.”

“¿Lady Sansa?”

A manly voice made her realize she was talking to Bronze Yohn. “Yes?”

She reminded he asked her for an audience to talk alone about something important, but he did not decide to tell her whatever he wanted to say. The new guards of Robert and the provisioning of the castle were the themes he exposed before explaining her what was happening. “Is something about your sister, my lady.”

Thousands of questions assaulted her when she heard him. Arya? Her sister, alive? The lady of the bastard of Roose Bolton? A big pain made her head hurt; she could not believe Bronze Yohn. Sansa knew Roose Bolton, he was a pale man who had a bass voice. But maybe his son was different. A wedding with a bastard could be something terrible, but Arya did not care about blood lines or families. “Roose Bolton was in the Red Wedding, he was one of the heads of the conspiration. His son was legitimized, then he wed your sister. We captured one of his spies and he told us that Theon Greyjoy serves to him. He was the pupil of your father, am I right?”

“What do you mean?”

Theon. She reminded his lovely smile, full of confidence? Why did he betray her family? He was almost part of them. And Arya… she could be ten years and five more. When Bronze Yohn explained her that Ramsay was abusing Arya, Sansa became demoralized and almost faint over her chair, without caring about her posture. She cried. Why was her sister in the hands of a cruel man? Why did Theon betray them? “We know she is locked into a castle that belongs to her husband, away of Winterfell because her tears made their army… weak. They could not fight because of her crying,” Bronze Yohn still talking like he did not know about her pain. “The spy talked when we cut the first finger. He was terrifyied. A coward.”

Sansa was paralizad. Arya was alive, alive but prisoner. “Why did you call me here?” she whispered.

“I haven’t talk to the other lords. You’ll be our lady and this situation affects you, so I thought you should know first.” He gave her a delicate handkerchief and she wiped her tears. “I suppose you desire to save your sister and recover your kingdom.”

“Yes!” she yelled.

“We shall go to the North with part of the forces of the Vale. We’ll support you. My house is small but powerful, our vassals are loyal, and they will give you their hearts and fight until their last drop of blood.”

“Will you help me? I don’t know how to express my gratitude”

“We, the houses of Royce, Waynwood and Redfort supported the young wolf,” he grunted. “We were at the edge of uprising when lady Lysa denied her help. If we could go with him… Together we could win the war. His death could be not in vain.”

A tear crossed her face.

He still talking. “Of course, I have my reasons to help you. I would like you to trust me. More than that, Robert Arryn cannot wed a maiden without a dowry despite her beauty and his born,” he cleared.

“So, why…?”

“The house of Arryn has a long history, the have been our leaders since the time of andals. We trust them because they protected us when we needed them. That little boy is more important than you think. I suppose you know about our savages.”

She denied, so Bronze Yohn smiled indulgent and told her part of their history since the kidnap of an Arryn woman. Sansa knew the story but just a little, and she had to agree with him. Without Robert, the heir of the Eyrie, the Vale could lose the only piece able to keep the bond between them: then, the attacks of savages, the fear, the internal wars between the houses, could destroy the unity of the kingdom. But, a wife could give children to Robert. Children to keep the blood of Arryn and make sure their house was going to survive. Especially if that wife could contribute with gold, weapons and lands.

“Your heart is kind. You were made to rule this kingdom and guide our lord. Would you like to discuse this with the rest of the lords?”

“Yes, of course,” she said with a neutral expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I personally think kissing Petyr could be the most disgusting thing ever, literally ever 3:  
> House Royce is supposed to be rich, powerful and that stuff, so I wish Yohn Royce will help Sansa to expulse Petyr of her life


	16. Chapter 16

The light of the sun fell over the snow, blinding men which were doing their tasks in the camp. They focused on their own job, so most of them could not see the girl sat in the limit of the forest.

She had an attractive face which was pale, so pale as her white clothes. She seemed like she was part of the landscape and just her eyes, like almonds, stood out among the fur of her cloak. That fur belonged to a family of pine martens, all of them white as milk. Soldiers hunted them and took their small bodies until the camp, where they offered them to the daughter of Eddard Stark, the only one who deserved that honor. A woman sewed the cloak and gave her an embroidered dress which seemed out of place in that cruel environment.

Under the rich garments, the delicate body of Jeyne was covered with a map of bloody lines which refused to heal. Lots of scars. Her ribs were not so well after jumping the wall of Winterfell and her nose was covered by a red scab which did not disappear. At least her nose was still there, the healer of soldiers did not have to amputate it as he thought when he saw her. Jeyne cried at night because of pain, but everything was better than being the lady of Ramsay Bolton. Everything was better, but she had to keep her true name as a secret.

The only way of being safe for her was using the name of Arya Stark.

Some soldiers were near, but they did not talk to her, it was forbidden to them. Jeyne feared men, although she thought they could not hurt her if she were in the presence of all people. So, every morning, Alysane Mormont went with her near of the forest limit and left her alone until it was time to eat. Jeyne enjoyed cold air and her freedom, even if it was false.

A black eye was staring at her. Mors Umber. The man who rescued her from the castle. Jeyne did not forget her lonely eye, brilliant as obsidian when he asked her names of Winterfell servants to probe her identity. Gage, Mikken. Vayron Poole. She wished he could be blind; she could not stand him staring at her. He was always looking at her, especially since he knew she was an impostor. Deceiving him was easy. Mors knew that Arya was a dark-haired girl who had to be taken to Stannis Baratheon. At the camp they treated her as a lady until Jon Snow ruined the situation. He arrived a night, just to tell Stannis she was a liar. An imposter that was taking the place of her sister! In that point Jeyne’s face was red because of her crying. The long years locked, Ramsay’s abuses, the fear she felt, everything was confessed. It was going to be her end, or that was what she thought until fortune smiled to her for first time. Arya Stark was an important name for the North, if she decided to stay away of her husband, northern people were going to fight due to give her the place which was hers. She was safe, safe as a woman could be in the middle of a war.

Sometimes she felt that lies were going to make her insane. Stannis was tough, intransigent. The lords that knew the secret keep it and Jeyne felt thankful but, most of time, she considered that dying could be a thousand times better. When night fell and she laid her body next to Alysane Mormont, she cried until fell asleep. She feared that Ramsay could appear, smiling after killing the woman, just to take her again. His shade was going to follow her forever. He was so dangerous, no one could run away of him.

Usually, Jeyne did not rise any false hopes about her future. She had no home or family, neither skills. She just knew how to please men in the bedroom, but she not even satisfied her lord. The only thing she got from her attempts were wounds in her young flesh, humiliation. The prostitutes which taught her, gave her their knowledge and their own fear. _He was drunk and he laid me down like an animal. My private parts were burning as hell. That old crap came with another slag and he made us fornicate with each other while he stared at us. The brothel’s owner took my coins because her husband looked at me with wolf eyes. That son of a cunt told me he was in love, he betrayed me and came to my room with his friends, they used my body at the same time._ Different stories, all of them intimidated her since the beginning because she knew that could be her destiny if someone discovered who she was.

A snowflake fell over her hands. It was cold and Jeyne thought she could look for Alysane, but she was untraceable and asking men was not an option. She resigned to wait when Theon appeared with two guards. The boys were young, almost children. Theon moved slow due to his feet. No one could recognize the prideful man who kissed beautiful women in the pathetic man with white hair. Not even her sister. He was the offal of himself. His body was in the edge of squalor, his amputated fingers did not let him to use his bow and he did not talk. “Theon,” she said when he reached her, “are you feeling well?”

He agreed with his head, sitting next to her silently while one of the guards offered her some wine. Theon was her only true friend, the one who saved her and jumped the eighty feet of the wall. Most of men hated him but for Jeyne, he was the only one who restrained her of diving into the cold river until dying. If she died, he was going to stay alone as an abandoned dog. They just had each other.

At least young soldiers were not cruel to him.

A sound of horses made her realize there was a group of people going to them so fast. The guards raised their swords, prepared to protect lady Arya of any enemy. Jeyne calmed herself when she saw the old clothes which were no pale pink and did not have the red flayed man. Two men dismounted after reaching them, and they took the harnesses of their animals. Once had a helmet which covered his face and the other one was a young man with a grumpy expression. His eyes were so blue, she could distinguish the color even in the distance. The rest of them still mounting their horses, there were a red priest with a wooden stick in his hands, some people with big weapons, a man with his face covered with a turban due to cold and a man whose face she could barely recognize. Harwin.

_Gods, I beg you. Don’t let him remember my face._

“I salute you,” said one of the guards showing his sword. “It’s a beautiful day.”

“That’s true,” a man who had the face of a crannogman. “We need to see Stannis Baratheon right now.”

“What makes you think he is still here?” Who are you?” grumped the boy in response.

The red priest dismounted almost laughing. “Be more respectful, child. You are talking to the leader of crannogmen and ruler of the Neck.”

The stick between his hands burned while he raised it over his head, the flames redder than his filthy clothes. Jeyne covered her eyes and the boys yelled surprised. “I’m here to offer my loyalty to your lord,” said the crannogman. “These are dark times.”

They were invited by the guards to drink something warm, but his leader refused. He wanted to talk to Stannis or Jon Snow soon as he could. Jeyne knew his name; he was Howland Reed. One of the allies of Eddard Stark. Why did he appear after years since his death? Why did he hide himself in the swamps?

The flames consumed the sitck. One of the guards showed them the path to the stables and the other took Jeyne and Theon away. The blue-eyed man had was staring at her; no lustful, but curious. Jeyne could not saw him whispering to the smallest figure.

She followed the guard until a tent where they were received with a big smile of the braavosi who was sent by the Iron Bank. Stannis was there writing on a parchment next to a deaf-mute servant, but he did not stop his task. _Tycho,_ Jeyne reminded, _his name is Tycho._ It was worthwhile to remember his name. even if he was a little bit annoying with his good manners, he was kind to her and talkative. Sometimes she forgot they were in the middle of a war. He loved talking with her about the economy of the North. How could Eddard Stark make that cold land yielding profits? What did he sell, what did he buy, what did he to obtain gold? How could he manage his kingdom without the loans of banks from Essos?

“I must confess I asked your friends to bring you if you had time for me,” he said warmly.

He was just being courteous; they both were conscious that Jeyne did nothing more than recovering of her wounds. Even so, she felt thankful because he made her feel a little bit less useless. Yes, he was a courteous man in the way of Essos, but rumors said he was relentless, able to leave thousands of people in the most extreme poverty just to get what belonged to the Iron Bank. Anyhow, he traveled from Braavos to help Stannis.

While they were talking about nonsense, Jon Snow appeared with the newcomers. Jeyne stayed near of Theon, waiting until someone said she could go.

Jon was more tough than he used to be, he seemed like Eddard Stark, but that was an old impression. He was the resembling of his father, even more than Arya, the only legitimate daughter who had northern features. The crannogman bent his knee, offering his help to Stannis, his pretentions and the cause of Jon. His men did the same, and the tallest shaped took the helmet out and offered to serve as a knight. An ungainly woman. She was the tallest woman Jeyne had ever seen, even taller than the tallest man next to her.

When they stood, the smallest person removed the garments from her face. A girl, probably a girl of her age. Jeyne feared her when she stared at her with cold eyes which were like knives. Dark knives, but she could not recognize the color.

“We may lose the battle. You may be captured by our enemy. Jon Snow too. You may even die. Even so, we’ll fight for you and I’ll put three quarters of my forces in your hands,” declared lord Howland. “We’ll avenge you if someone offend your name and we’ll give the throne to your daughter if you die. And if we win, we’ll bend our swords to you.”

Stannis shuffled. “I expect no less from you.”

“We appreciate your intervention,” said Jon, much more friendly than Stannis. “We need all the posible support since the Night’s Watch retired to the Wall.”

Harwin talked, staring at him with strangeness. “They belong to the Wall. They don’t have to take sides on this war.”

An awkward silence made Jeyne feel so bad. The only thing she desired was being swallowed by earth.

Surprisingly, Stannis decided to talk to him. “Jon Snow is here for her sister. She was given to Ramsay Bolton unlawfully. You shall understand her wed was not valid because Lannisters forced her to wed him. Cersei is an adulterous and sinful woman, and her son is a bastard, they do not want to enforce laws.”

“Where is Arya Stark?” asked Howland. Jeyne gulped.

Stannis grinded his teeth as he did when he was angry. “She is in front of you.”

Clumsily, Jeyne lift her body. Most of men used to bend their knees in front of her, but they just looked at each other with suspicion. The blue-eyed man frowned and went to Stannis before someone could talk. “M’lord. I’m Gendry, knight of the Hollow Hill,” he said, or rather grumped. “I’m sorry to tell you she is an imposter.”

Stannis remained impassive. The young man was in front of him and he did not kneel, so their eyes were in the same level, defying each other. Jeyne’s eyes opened as the eyes of a frightened fawn. She could not do less than noticing they had the same frown and the same obstinacy.

Stannis knew it. Jon knew it too.

Tycho seemed appalled. His mouth opened and closed, but he could not talk.

“You are wrong! She is Arya, I can identify her between other girls!”

Theon. He was brave. He was better than other men, upholding her even when she knew he was scared. Jeyne felt protected by him, almost happy of being alive.

The young man frowned and dwelled on. “You lie. Or maybe they deceived you. The real Arya Stark fled from the Red Keep and one of the crows found her the day of her father’s death. He was taking me and some men to the Wall, and he decided to take her with us because her brother was there.”

“Where’s that man?” asked Stannis?

“He died. The Mountain found us, and we were his prisoners in Harrenhal until Roose Bolton came. We fled when he decided to give the castle to another man. The Brotherhood Without Banners found us and we live with them. Then, the Hound captured her.”

A cruel, sarcastic smile appeared in Stannis face. “Do you think I’ll believe you?” he laughed. “If your story is real, you are a criminal in the road to his condemn. Probably you were the last filth of society. And, if that is not true, you are a liar.”

Something in the young and rigid face frightened her. Evidently, he desired to attack Stannis for his words, but the girl with cold eyes held his arm. She turned to Jeyne and walked to her. Theon tried to stop her steps, but the girl pushed him away abruptly, brutishly. Her eyes were terrifying. Dark and cold grey. Jeyne became aware their faces were not alike, but both had dark hair and a thin body. They were small, but the girl in front of her seemed older because of her movements. “He was given to the Night’s Watch by his master. He is not a criminal,” she said while staring at Jeyne. “You should hold your tongue, my lord.”

“You, insolent girl,” bellowed Stannis with his face red as an apple. “How dare you?”

He was ignored by her. “I remember you,” she said without looking away of the brown eyes. “Your father was a good man and you were the only family he had. You were Sansa’s best friend and you made fun of me because my embroidery seemed ugly. You are Jeyne Poole.”

The voice was high, deep. Jeyne felt like she was smaller than ever. She was so terrified to talk.

“You were cruel to me; I was so scared when you told me that probably I was not from my family. You made me feel like I was out of place because I was not like my sister. But once, you gave me a crown, made of white flowers,” she continued with a softer voice. “You never ratted me when I made mischief to you. Even if I was annoying sometimes. Once you gave me a cup of wine and father did not know why I was so happy, and you never told Sansa I was the one who stole her pastries.”

“Arya!”

She was the real Arya. Jeyne did not know what to feel.

“I suppose the only things I have to prove my identity are memories. I have changed a lot, but you look like always. Sorry for shoving you, Theon,” she said staring at him. “And sorry for the things that happened to you. Maybe if… If I just did not…”

“Did you lie to me?” Tycho was ignored when he was silent, but then they turned to him at the sound of his voice. His face was not like always: something let Jeyne seeing the terrible man who worked for the Iron Bank. “Why did you hide this information?”

“Secrets must be kept in the depths of our hearts,” said Jon finally. “That’s why they are called secrets.”

Tycho’s face got angrier. “This is not just a secret. This is important information and can change everything. If people discover this, you’ll be liars to people and your allies may leave you! Cersei Lannister will mock of you, and you’ll never be king if her position is better than yours!”

Abruptly he still yelling, Jeyne could not understand everything because he was talking so fast and using some words of an unknown language, but she found refuge between Theon’s arms.Tycho seemed like he had forgot his courtesy, and Jeyne realized they were into a spider web and just Tycho could save them from the spider, who was the queen. The deals between Jon Snow and him, the promises, the payments… everything could be useless if Tycho decided to stop their relations. She cried, fearing of future.

“Take it as a confusion, not as a lie,” said Arya peacefully.

Tycho paid attention to her when she started to talk fluently in other language. He talked to her too and surprisingly, their words flowed like rivers into the sea. After a long time, the outraged eyes of the braavosi reassured. He stared at Jeyne with a sad expression. “She was enslaved by the queen,” said Arya in westerosi. “Could you blame her for being scared?”

“No one should be enslaved,” mumbled the man.

“Lannister people think humans are flesh and wares to traffic,” grumped Stannis. “I have five hundred swords of faithful men, ships and mercenaries. Men of the North had sworn their fidelity and promised to fight until their last breath. You opened your chest for me, and I am thankful. Could you just throw away all your efforts? And your investments?

Tycho’s anger faded and the situation was reversed, so a small beam of hope illuminated Jeyne’s eyes. “Noho can get everything from the bank. Promises, gold… even if the House of Lannister is not able to pay,” he whispered, with a strong accent. “If you swear that you’ll keep your army together, the bank will support you.”

The cold mouth of Stannis smiled, just a little. “Do you swear?”

“I swear. The Iron Bank gambles just if you give them what is its property. You are a man of honor. Nevertheless…”

“The army will stay together, and they’ll win.” Arya disrupted him with a strange smile. “My men are going to keep the secret.”

“We won’t talk about it too,” corroborated Jon while signed to the deaf-muted servant, who has shrugged in a corner. The man went outside and returned with a wineskin and some glasses. The wine was poured and while he served to men Stannis interrogated Arya, keeping his eyes fixed on the young man with blue eyes. Jeyne did not know why Jon was talking to red priest instead of talking to his sister. Arya and Jon loved each other, they had a strong bond, stronger than the bond with their other brothers. Jon loved her more than he loved Robb, Bran or Rickon, a thousand times more than he loved Sansa. But he was not interested on her.

Long time after it, he went to Arya. She stared at him and saluted with a cold sign and went out of the tent, being followed by the young man with blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeyne deserves better and that's all I have to say


	17. Chapter 17

Arya left the tent, trying to act naturally while a strange fire consumed her thoughts. Her legs moved fast, going away. She needed to think. Noticing that Gendry was following her, she moved faster, but her reached her. “Arya!” he said. “Wait!”

She stopped. _People are looking at us,_ she realized, feeling some eyes fixed on them. Without any doubt, she held his arm and lugged him. The forest was near, she just hid themselves into the dark trees. “Everything is wrong,” she whispered while resting her body over a stone covered by snow. “Coming here was wrong. I must go.”

The silence of forest was disrupted sometimes by wolves howling at distances and birds of prey, whose red eyes stared at them from the sky. Arya stop touching Gendry and hid her hands into her cloak. She could not breath properly. Hope, feelings, everything was falling like leaves at the first sign of autumn winds.

She was like an empty shell.

“Wait. You broke out of the traps of the queen and lots of noblemen. You met Yoren and he promised you his help to find your brother,” grumped Gendry. “Then, you disappeared. Coming here took you a long time and a big effort. Why do you wanna leave? Is that girl annoying for you?”

She sighed. “No, Jeyne had been suffering. She was just a girl when my father died, I can’t imagine what happened to her.” With a broken voice she continued talking to him. “Maybe she could be better if I just stayed in the Red Keep. But that’s not the problem now.”

“So, what it is?”

Probably he was going to think she was crazy. Arya trusted him to some extent but trusting someone was dangerous. She would have liked being alone. She wished having space to cry. She needed to cry, or her heart could explode. But there was not time to cry, and she was not able to show her emotions. She could not trust Gendry at all, even the only thing she wanted was his arms wrapped around her, just to feel protected by another human.

 _Speak to him,_ said a voice into her head. _Just for once, share your problems. Just for once, before the hole in your heart open again._

“Jon,” she whispered finally. “The man you saw. He is not my brother.”

It was stupid. That man had the face of her brother, his voice, his body. He seemed like her father in a way that almost made her yell. She could not understand herself. How could she prove something that she did not understand? It was nonsense. Madness. “I believe you,” said Gendry surprising her. “You know him well. But, if he is not your brother, who is him?”

She decided to talk with the truth. “I don’t know. But we’ll know soon. Don’t talk about this.”

Before coming back to the camp, she saw her reflect in an icicle. Her frown lines were not helpful so, biting her lips, she imagined she was in The

Gate acting as the most tragic maiden. After turning around her own axis two or three times, stared at Gendry with sad eyes. He frowned. “Are you feeling well?”

She laughed, and the sound of her voice made him smile a little.

They walked together to reach the tent, where the false Jon and some men were waiting for her. She embraced his body, hating the touch of his hands. A slight smell of smoke invaded her nasal cavities. Gendry answered the questions about Yoren and she simulated that she was almost crying just to evade Stannis Baratheon’s interrogatory.

Days passed and they got used to the life of the camp. All people had a job, except for her. Men practiced with their weapons for hours while snow fell cruel over them. Gendry was always with other smiths and Harwin in the stables. Brienne de Tarth taught her art to younger soldiers. _Children_ , she thought angry. Children whose innocence was taken by war, just like hers.

The job entrusted to her by Stannis was being Jeyne’s maiden. That was the best way to explain her presence in the camp, and Arya thought it was an acceptable idea. The only people who got an explanation about her true identity were Mors Umber and Alysane Mormont, they knew the secret of Jeyne before her own arriving. Mors examined her face with his black eye just to mock of her solemn face and told her she was the image of her father. He added that Arya Stark was lucky for having a friend, and he did not mention who was the lucky one.

Arya-Jeyne, probably. Jeyne cried the whole time and she refused to tell her what Ramsay did to her. Arya could imagine it: when someone was near of Jeyne, she shrugged afraid just like an abused person could do. She understood her, Jeyne used to be like her sister, a stupid girl with her hear in the clouds. She was a poor wretch, just like Theon. But, under his white hair, he had nerves of steel. He must have to survive his punishment.

“You shall not talk to him, my lady,” said Mors one day. “He turned his cloak.”

The night that followed that advice, she dressed in a grey cloak and combed her hair as her father did. She went to the place when he used to sleep, alone as a dog. The poor man got terrified when he saw her face and tried not to talk. After some attempts, he could not keep his lips closed and he told her everything. He told her what happened after her travel to King’s Landing until the day he jumped off the wall with Jeyne. In the moment when he talked about her brothers, anger mixed with bitterness made her open and close her fits repeatedly. “I think they are dead,” he whispered with dead voice. “You should hate me.”

“I should. But I don’t hate you even if I try,” her words were chosen carefully. “You could chose hunting them and giving them to the queen or keeping them as prisoners. Then Ramsay could appear and did them the same he did to you. He could give them to their darn soldiers to used them as they used prostitutes. I have a lot of ideas of what a man like him could do.”

“I’d like to tell you that you are wrong,” a tear crossed his face. “I’m sorry. You don’t know how terrible I feel for doing that to them”

She gave him a sad smile. “I don’t hate you.” Her fingers grabbed his mutilated hand. “Thanks for telling me the truth.”

In dribs and drabs, she could stop the harassment of some men. Her words made them understand that lady Arya was thankful to him, so she could feel terribly if they showed to him, the man who rescued her, those bitter expressions. They did not talk to him again, but at least they left him alone. She felt better for him, Theon was part of her family after all. He was like a cousin who chose the wrong side. He was part of her home, just like Jeyne.

But that did not mean she desired to spend her time with them.

Whenever she had the opportunity, she fled to the forge, especially if she knew he was going to be alone. He showed her he was trustworthy, so she did not mind sharing his ideas with him sometimes. Besides, the forge was warm, and she could hide from people. _Is not that I wanna see heim,_ she used to tell herself. _I just can’t stand Jeyne crying and crying the whole time. When servants said her tears were capable of frighten an army, they were completely right._

She could spend her time with other people, but it could be awkward. Of course, she could not spend her time practicing with her sword because she had to keep the image of the useless maiden. Sometimes, she went to the forest with Anguy when he was alone. Often, learnt some movements from Brienne and Lem, just if they had to guard together. In public, she spent her time with Jeyne, Theon and the false Jon. She had a bed, she had food: a simple, comfortable life. The only strange incidents in her life were the dreams that appeared and disappeared. In the last one, she was walking through the snow near of her castle. Most of the towers and buildings were burned. A guard with a pale pink cloak was in front of her, and Arya bit his neck before taking him to a dark forest. After the dreams she was tired, but no one realized because her facial expression did not change so much.

A day, she found Jeyne and Theon playing with the braavosi. He loved games which involved more than two people. “The bridge to communication is a good time,” he said giving them some old cards, “and communication is the bridge to make a good deal.” Smiling smugly, Arya taught Jeyne how to cheat the braavosi, so she won some pieces of gold with the face of a titan. They forgot her after a time, lost in the game.

She fled to the forge, where Gendry was alone. He waved at her without looking, telling that other blacksmiths were receiving orders from Stannis due to a mission in a small town. Arya knew it because she heard the man talking about it to her false brother. She wandered through the place and borrowed a light-hearted axe which was thrown against a tree outside. “You were supposed to act as a lady,” his mouth curved with a half-smile while he was hammering a piece of steel. “Ladies are not supposed to lift heavy things.”

“This is not heavy,” she grumped. “We are alone. Otherwise, who could think about me as a lady with Jeyne by my side?”

“Everybody could see you are a lady if you wear a nice dress,” he mocked mischievously and lifted his eyes to her face. “A pink one. Or you should sing something. Try to embroider some pretty flowers in Stannis clothes. He’ll love it.”

Arya went to him and hit his shoulder. “You are an idiot. You’ve never seen my embroidery.”

“Of course, I haven’t,” he left the hammer and laughed cruelty. “But no one can resist a lady’s embroidery. Do you think he likes roses? Or maybe he prefers hearts?”

Gendry made a gesture like trying to pinch her cheeks but she aparted his hands. He did it again, but she shoved him and wriggled free. His stupid attempts to catch her were useless and she only could laugh until they finally fell. Both were covered in filthy dust and some frost from outside. Gendry’s face got red at the moment when he realized he was over her and he swerved, but he gave her his hand. “Sorry,” he mumbled while frowning.

His face was burning, but he stared at her for a long time. Was he an idiot? Arya was conscious he always had his eyes on her when he thought no one was watching. If she was near, his face was red. If she asked something, his tongue got tied, and he frowned even more than usually. He seemed like he was in love with her!

It was a stupid idea, but she felt something warm in her heart when she thought about it.

 _Gendry could never love an assassin like you,_ laughed a voice in her head. _He just likes you because you are not annoying, and because you can keep your mouth closed. And he feels guilty after letting the Hound going._

Arya closed her eyes for a moment, with a sad feeling. The hole in her heart was going to be there for the rest of her life. “Don’t care,” she reminded a dress with acorns. “Let’s eat.”

Out of the forge, they wiped the durst from their clothes and went to the place where food was served by old people. They got a pair of rations and then saw Anguy, who made exaggerate gestures to salute them. When they reached him and the rest of men of the brotherhood, he smiled stupidly and whispered something at Gendry’s ear, making him red as an apple. Anguy was punched by him but he did not stop whispering to his ear laughing as an idiot. Gendry seemed red, like he had fever.

Lem Lemoncloak left his dish away. “Members of the brotherhood came here,” he said to Arya. “Ned Dayne and his people.”

The memory of a sweet shy face came to her memory. She reminded too that Gendry did not like him. _Poor Ned,_ she thought, _I wish he is stronger now._

War was cruel to people with soft heart.

Probably, he still the same. He was sweet and gentle, like the knights of her sister songs. Bards used to sing about eyes which were warm like his, but she preferred cold eyes accompanied of red cheeks. Less childish. Arya was thinking about it until a fair-haired boy reached them. Edric. Apparently, he did not know who she was, but he treated her with courtesy, like she was a lady. Arya heard someone grunting, and she knew without looking that the one making that noise was Gendry. Ignoring him she answered Edric’s questions, which were about her travelling to meet lady Arya. _Gendry was jealous of him, I punished him for his desire to join the brotherhood. I used Ned as a tool to show him that I did not want to be his friend,_ she reminded. _Gods, I’m repugnant._

Edric stroked his hair. “Could you… could you give a message to lady Arya?” he asked her.

His desesperate face showed her he was truly interested on Arya. Avoiding his eyes, she refused and let Brienne talk to him. Arya looked forward with no real interest and she glanced an enormous white dog between the trees. No. The animal was too big to be a dog, even to be one of those that dragged sleds. It was a direwolf.

Ghost.

_Jon’s direwolf._

Gendry disappeared and they did not notice it, for that reason, no one was paying attention to Arya. Accordingly, she went silent as a shade to the forest where the animal hid. Just those red eyes made her realize it was not a pile of snow. She walked slowly to show she had good intentions. Ghost smelled her hands and licked them, letting her to pet his silver hair before going through the trees. She followed his steps until a cave, which entrance was dissimulated by leaves and moss. It was away of the camp. Ghost stopped and stared at her. Then, the direwolf came into the darkness and she did the same.

A small fire burned without any signal of smoke in a corner of the cave, it was bigger than she thought. In front of a wall there was a bed, on whose foot Ghost laid. He cried as Nymeria did when she left her go, and the memory made her heart beating painfully. Arya went to the animal and saw who was sleeping on the bed.

_Jon._

Ghost raised to lick the cold hand on the linen while Arya fell back to her knees, exhausted. Her attempts to awake him were useless. Silent tears crossed her face to her old clothes. She used to miss him more than anyone, she had the hope of meeting him again because men of the Night’s Watch were not concerned about conflicts of kings and queens. She hoped to confess him the horrible things she did, to find some comprehension. How could she do it if his eyes were closed?

Her body was covered of scars she had never seen.

“His people tried to murder him when he wanted to find you. I brought him from the Wall.”

Behind her, the false Jon was staring at them. As he approached to her, his solemn features transfigured into a heart-shaped face. The dark hair turned to red and the body take the shape of a woman, whose neck was choked by a golden necklace. “Who are you and how do you know him?” she asked with her hand in her Needle.

“I knew you were coming,” she asked avoiding the question. “They tried to murder him, but he waited for you. That’s why he didn’t die.”

“Who are you?” she insisted.

The long red fabric of her clothes shone like fire, just like her eyes. She was almost tall as Brienne was, but she was graceful as the woman of Tarth could never be. And so beautiful, terribly beautiful. Her beauty was capable of pass through a heart like a sword.

She seemed like a red priestess.

“My name is Melisandre. Your name is Arya Stark,” she answered and sat in the corner of the bed. “He was worried about you. I saw you into the fire. And some girls I had mistaken for you.”

“Other girls?”

She did not understand a word.

“He waited for you. He begged me to use my gift to search you because he hoped to see you again.” Her voice was melodic and deep, Arya wanted to cry again. “At first, I saw a girl in a dying horse. She was another girl. Then I saw the girl who was the wife of Ramsay Bolton and Jon tried to go for her. It was my fault.”

For a moment, Arya just heard the sound of his breathing. Slept he seemed so young, but she could see some expression lines crossing his face. _Is my fault,_ she blamed herself. _He tried to save Jeyne thinking she was me, that could not happen if I just… Is my fault. My fault, my fault, my fault._

“She is a weak girl,” Melisandre’s face was thoughtful. “The fire showed me a girl with white and black garments after bringing him here. I had no chance to tell him about it and if you think about it, we were fortunate. The despair of not having you here could devour his heart.”

“Can you do something for him?”

“We did everything we could,” the red woman saw her with a sad expression. “My power could keep him alive, but his eyes stayed closed. He needs someone chosen by R’hllor. Someone with the flame of the life inside his chest.”

A sad feeling was in her heart, Jon was her favorite brother and the last member of her family. Suddenly, she reminded where did she heard the name of R’hllor. Without talking, she left the woman and ran to search Thoros of Myr. If there was someone able to help Jon, that was him. He just had to give her brother a kiss like he did to Beric Dondarrion.

Thoros was talking to another man, and ignoring his surprised face, she dragged him to the cave. “I need your help,” she mumbled while walking. “You gave the kiss of life to lord Beric and he did the same to my mother. Theirs is someone who needs it.”

His semblant shaded. “I can’t… I can’t give life to dead people. At least if they are in the house of the god of dead since a long time. I don’t want to give you false illusions.”

“Is not a corpse.”

In the entrance of the cave, Arya made him enter. His slow movements drove her crazy so she pushed him inside with a kick in his ass and followed him, thinking of how much time could take awakening Jon.

After examining her brother, Thoros told her he had some doubts of his state. “He’s not dead, he’s sleeping,” mumbled the red woman. “I need the help of R’hllor and a chosen priest to bring him to life.”

Thoros accepted her words with a suspicious expression, but her face showed some interest. His eyes stared at the golden necklace.

 _I don’t want him dead._ _Old gods, please._ _I know I betrayed you,_ Arya prayed while the priests walked. _Please, I’m begging to you for his life. I cannot beg to a god of death. Please, let my brother live again. He is not guilty of my sins._

Thoros started to pray after feeding the fire. Melisandre did the same. Their words were in high valyrian and Arya could understand just a few words, they asked R’hllor for light and fire.

Time passed and nothing happened.

“Lord of light don’t talk to us,” said the priest. “Your brother is in the limit that divides life and death. We need magic. Bloodmagic.”

The kindly man always told her that was dangerous. People who practiced it were enemies of Him of Many Faces. Bloodmagic was the darkest kind of sorcery. “Can you use it?”

“I can do it with his help,” said the priestess. “But there’s a problema. Bloodmagic is dark and powerful and needs strong blood to wake him. The blood of a king.”

“Where can we find it?” she asked terrified. “There are not kings here.”

“There is king’s blood here. I can smell its scent,” answered the woman. “We need to talk to our lord.”

Melisandre sent them to Stannis while she gathered the implements needed for the ritual. The blue eyes got colder when she talked, but he listened at her until the end. He did not ask how she found Jon and he did not give her consolation words. He just grinded his teeth. “So, what do you want? My blood? I may need Jon Snow, but I won’t give my life to wake him.”

His face had a tightness to it like cured leather. For a moment, Arya could not understand what he meant. Her eyes descended and she found a heart in flames along to a beating heart. She stared at him. “I need king’s blood for my brother,” she mumbled, willing to take his blood by force.

Her hand went to her Needle slowly. There were not guards near of her. She was going to be considered a traitor, she was going to be hanged, but Jon was going to live. The red woman arrived exactly when her fingers grabbed the sword. “Do you know what they want, do you?” grunted Stannis to her. “I refuse to give you my blood.”

Her dark voice resounded while she walked to him. “Is not your blood what we need, my lord. You are not the king yet. But we do have king’s blood here.”

Gendry appeared with an empty sink and some metallic objects between his hands. His face seemed confused and annoyed, but he did not stop moving until he reached Stannis. Their eyes were cold.

“You shall admit he looks like his father,” she continued. “The Baratheon look is stamped on his face. His eyes, his voice, his height… your brother’s blood is strong.”

Stannis examined Gendry’s face and for a moment he tried to say something like he wanted to refute Melisandre’s words, but he stayed silent. Arya thought in the king Robert. Yes, they had blue eyes and black hair, but what about that? There were lots of people with black hair. The old king was a real sot whose beahvior was… not the best. Gendry was tall and muscled, he did not resemble king Robert’s face. And he used to live with Tobho Mott, people could recognize him if that could be true. Then, she reminded soemthing. Her father told her once that the king used to be brave and strong when he was young. That maidens yearnt for him, that they could give their lives just to receive a kiss from his mouth. Was it true?

“Varys.” Stannis words were bitter. “He always hid his sideslips. I remember the first time I saw this boy. He was like Robert when he was young, he resembled him more than Joffrey. At least he didn’t inherit that stupid smile. I hated his smile.”

“His blood will save Jon Snow.”

Blood?

She forgot about it. Gendry still in front of Stannis with a painful expression in his face. Between her need to get the blood of a king and the knowledge of Gendry’s bastardy, she did not connect both ideas. Suddenly she understood what the intention of the woman was. “No.” She grabbed the sword and confronted her. “You won’t do it, because I will kill you if you try.”

“Arya.” Gendry banished the weapon from the woman.

Confused, Arya sheathed it. Warm hands held hers and she felt something strange in her body. She expected a wrinkled frown or stubborn eyes, but his face was soft. He was staring at her with the mildness that just someone who had a person to love could have.

An urge to vomit came to her.

“They told me what’s happening to your brother. I know you’re suffering, Arya” he said with a broken voice. “I’m willing to do this. You need him. All of you need him.”

Her cheeks were burning, and her breathing lose constancy. “I don’t want you dead, idiot.”

“I don’t mind dying,” he frowned. “Your brother is more important than a bloody smith!”

“Jon wouldn’t accept that kind of sacrifice!” Anger made her release his hands. “You are wrong if you think he could accept people dying for him.”

Melisandre inclined her head to whisper to her ear. “I see darkness on you. You are afraid of loosing what connects you to your past and you don’t want to decide. I see you are determined to close our eyes.” Arya gulped, staring at space. “You have closed many eyes and you’ll keep closing them until the day of your death. But today you won’t do it.”

A hand touched her shoulder. “He doesn’t have to die, believe me.” Thoros was frozen because of panic, but he talked clearly. “We just need to take some of his blood.”

“His blood will wake Jon Snow,” mumbled the red woman to convince her.

Arya bit her lip. “Alright,” she agreed angry. “If you take more blood of the necessary, even if is just one drop, I’ll kill you all. I swear.”

Silently, they walked to the cave. Ghost was waiting next to Jon. Arya did not let Melisandre getting closet to Gendry when she took a golden knife from her sleeve. She held his arm and cut it, enough to bleed without killing him. Blood fell on the basin. The wound was bandaged by her trembling hands, but she did not feel able to look at his eyes after their discussion in the tent.

Blood was mixed with strange powders and it was spread on her brother’s body. In front of his bed, the woman started to pray in high valyrian and the flames shone in red. She threw some red poder on the fire. “You must go out, my lady. The boy and the wolf too. We’ll start a song and the spirits who serve the Great Other will come to fight for the soul inside this cave. Those are an evil presence and alive people shall not be here.”

Before protesting, she felt a dark presence that terrified her. They came so far, so they could win or lose. She kissed Jon’s forehead. While she turned to go out, a ruby over Melisandre’s neck burned like a thousand suns.

Outside night had fell and sky had no moon. She just could see a masculine shape nest to her because there were not stars and wind was blowing aggressively against their bodies. Phantom laid at her feet.

The dark voice of the red priestess became into a song, a deep and hypnotic song. She searched for Gendry’s hand.

Melisandre and Thoros sang together. They were not alone.

Those were the servants of death, she was sure. They howled so she could not hear the song, and for a moment, she feared that the shades who danced into the cave were going to take her to hell. _I do not fear them,_ she mumbled in low voice. _I do not fear death because I am death’s hand._ She noticed the salt of her tears in her mouth while Ghost groaned hysteric.

They were waiting for a long time, an eternity. Thoros told them after it that they could enter to the cave. Inside, fire was almost dead, and the necklace of the red woman was the principal light. Red smoke was suffocating.

Jon’s body was surrounded by them, and Ghost howled. Arya held his cold hand. “Jon, please. Come back.”

There was no answer. Nothing changed, nothing was damaged. Even so, where was Jon? Where was his white smile when he talked to her? _Old golds did not listen to me. I disobeyed Him of Many Faces and I lost everything,_ she cried internally. _I betrayed him for following red priests and this is my punishment._

In that moment, when her hope was lost, Jon opened his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, this was a little bit intense


	18. Chapter 18

A cave was not exactly the best place for her brother’s health. He could breathe fresh air; he could receive the warm caress of sunlight. Arya thought that locking a man into a wet, dark place, was a terrible idea… but she had to admit that Jon was not able to stay with men in the camp. He was vulnerable in that moment. Jon had to stay in a quiet place and a camp full of soldiers was not a good option.

His health was the only thing she cared in that instant.

“He’ll be well,” said the red woman, “he needs some time.”

Outside of the cave, the world was the same. For the rest of men, Jon was sent to explore another place and the red priestess appeared after his trip to give some advices to Stannis Baratheon. Jeyne Poole represented the role of the northern lady and she was good at it. Arya felt so thankful to her because her days were spent completely in her brother’s recovery. In the beginning she did not realize that she was building walls between her and the rest of people. But she realized soon that she was insolated. She could not let Jon alone, and at least she had the help of a deaf-mute servant who was loyal to the Lord of Light. Melisandre and Thoros helped her and took care of him sometimes, but Arya felt she was responsible of him. She almost did not leave the cave because she was afraid of betraying herself. She was afraid of what people could do to her brother while he was vulnerable. Exhausted, more and more exhausted, muscle aches, nightmares. Lots of them. The perspective of being into a trouble gave her a big desire of crying.

In the depths of her heart, anguish devoured her. Even if she did the best she could, Jon hardly seemed better. Sad, aphatetic, a shade of himself. He barely talk to her. The only people who visited him were the red priests and Stannis. Sometimes, Gendry went to talk, and he tried to distract her but in the last time he was so busy so they could not see each other. Arya was absorbed by her brother and negative thoughts to talk… and she felt ashamed. Just a little.

Indeed, Stannis Baratheon hoarded Gendry’s time, treating him with a strange mix of discipline and respect. The first words that he told after recognizing that he was his uncle were to order him the forge of a sword, which was examined. Then, Stannis decided that Gendry had to stop forging harnesses for animals and started to forge weapons. Real weapons. Blacksmiths were important in times of war, and their position was important so, some people were jealous of him. The rumor of his bastardy was propagated, but no one try to complain in front of Stannis or depreciate Gendry. They had both complicated personalities; they were both stubborn… Stannis face did not change its expression, but his mouth was less tight. Seemed like he was satisfied with Gendry, especially because he was not a sot like the dead king, and in his own way tried to become him into a younger version of himself. It was disturbing.

Truly perturbing. Stannis made him eat on his own table where they had to use cutlery and serviettes. When Gendry used profanities, Stannis hit his hands with a wooden stick. The dark long hair had to be combed every day and the beard that grew strong in the trip to the North, shaved if he did not want another hit. A day, Arya found him away of the camp, complaining secretly. Without any sound, she went to him. “Why do you leave him mistreating you?”

Gendry startled. The skin of his hands was hardened after years working with metals, but it was bleeding because of the strong hits. His face blushed but she forced him to sit to heal his wounds.

“I’ve never had an uncle,” he grunted concisely. “An uncle that pretends to be a king. He’s terrifying, would you confront him so easy?”

There was a point. Arya wass the first to recognize that Stannis was intimidating to people. Since that day, she started to feel a big feeling of anger when she saw him. Who did he think he was? Fortunately, Gendry was able to satisfy his pretentions, and Stannis gave him more and more important tasks. In consequence, the times she was outside, he was busy.

She felt completely alone.

In fact, she barely talked to people, just to her brother. He heard about Syrio Forel, the braavosi which ordered her to hunt cats; about the enormous dark passages of the Red Keep; about the fear and emotion at seeing the shimmering black skulls. The trip with Yoren, the momento when her hair was cut, the thrashing received by Hot Pie. The flight to Braavos became into an adeventure. Arya sang some songs of the courtesans, but those about flowers and sun and happiness. She described the temples and sancutaries, the glorious sunset. The death was hidden, but she talked a long time about the stars of the braavosi sky, because she knew Jon enjoyed seeing them through the bronze far-eye of maester Luwin. Even so, he just answered with monosyllabes or short phrases. Sometimes, she felt guily because she could not mind him like he deserved.

A small feat gave her a big satisfaction after some weeks. Jon started to eat more, and he pet Ghost on his own for first time. When he went to sleep, the direwolf laid next to his body and Arya thought things were going to be better.

The sound of steps made her turn. She saw the red woman and the deaf- mute servant walking to her. “How was his day?” asked the woman.

“He’s eating more,” she answered quietly. “Maybe he is better.”

Melisandre glanced at her with kind eyes, and then made some signs to the servant to order him staying with Jon. She told Arya that Stannis has something to tell her, so they left together. Arya did not know what could happen.

In his tent, Gendry was showing him a shield with a heart in flames. Once he told her that he was forging some weapons for the queen’s men, whose mission was protecting lady Selyse and Shireen Baratheon. He smiled shy when he realized she was there.

Melisandre smiled too, but her smile was different. Beautiful like fire.

_Fire is dangerous._

“I brought her as you told me, your majesty. If you want, I’ll accompany your nephew to the forge.”

“He knows how to go,” Stannis grunted with an indifferent face. “Stay if you want, I don’t mind. I know you won’t talk about this; you know I will cut your heads in that case.” It seemed like he had affinity to him, enough to joke. It was not a joke, but Arya knew people should fear his silences… and his smiles.

“My lord,” she said while reverencing in front of him. Her false submission was appreciated by Stannis, who moved his head.

“I have information that is of your interest. Your brother shall be interested too, but I think is better if I tell you first.”

With his face tighten than usually he explained her that one of his men, a loyal one, had been captured near of White Harbor. He was supposed to be dead executed by the old lord Manderly, but the rumors were a trick of Wyman Manderly. The old man sent him to search a child who could be Rickon Stark. The man of Stannis could take the child to the castle and they were waiting to travel after some time. “I thought this could be a stupid trick, and two spies were sent. They told me Davos Seaworth is alive, accompanied of a child and a woman. He has auburn hair, and an enormous wolf guards his steps. The woman is a savage.” He talked to her like he did not realized the effect of his words on her. “That child could be Rickon Stark.”

Arya stared at him, with no words. Her brother had auburn hair just like her mother. Could be that child Rickon? Theon swore to her that he murdered other children, and a small boy was easy to hide. Hair could be dyed, he could be dressed in poor garments, someone could help him to forget his name and family. If just someone helped him to survive war…

“That’s not all,” Stannis continued when he understood she could not talk. “Melisandre saw something in her fire.”

“A child,” said the red woman. “I saw a child falling from a tower just to open his black wings and fly. His legs were broken, but he became into the shade of a three-eyed raven, standing on a tree with bloody leaves.”

Her brother. “Bran!”

How could her brother survive?

“There was a giant, taller than the tallest of the men of our army. He walked over the white snow. Her legs were strong like branches and the child was sleeping his back. He was following another child and a woman, both had green eyes.”

Hodor. The great-grandson of Old Nan, the biggest man of Winterfell. Was it possible? Could be the savior of her brother? His mind was simple, but he was loyal and strong. Arya reminded that Howland Reed talked to her once about her son and daughter, who swore to serve Bran and the family Stark. The bodies of the miller’s sons, battles and more battles… the catacombs. The idea came to her mind, and there was no space for doubts. Bran knew Winterfell very well, so he could hide under the castle, he could even escape through them. The hope of finding her brothers warmed her heart.

But she could not know if that was true until having them in front of her eyes. “If Rickon is in White Harbor… where is Bran?”

“He is far away. Beyond the wall.”

For the first time, since Arya met Melisandre, the red woman shuddered.

No one talked.

“I’ll go for him.”

She had no more options.

A sound of metal crushing with the floor made her turn; the shield dropped from Gendry’s hands. “No,” said Stannis. “I’ll send my men. They are loyal and experimented, but they are less valuable than the daughter of Eddard Stark.”

“I’ll go, you may help me or not, but I’ll go. I don’t need your permission to go for my brother.” While she was talking, the knob of her sword was caressed by her left hand. “Even if I die there, no one will care. Jeyne may take my name.”

The red woman frowned. “Jon snow will care.”

Arya’s heart beated in agony. Leaving him was painfully, but Melisandre could look after him without her. Of course, she was going to ask Thoros to guard her brother too, because she could not trust at all in the priestess. In any case her brother was safe, and nobody could hurt him because he was useful to Stannis, that was the reason he was hid of the world in his moment of vulnerability. Stannis even had Jeyne with him, who was useful to trick northern eyes; if she stayed away of Roose and Ramsay, he could use her as a tool... and she was going to be safe with him. “No one really needs me,” she smiled bitterly. “I’ll find my brother and I’ll take him here.”

“Maybe the child beyond the Wall is not him,” grumped Stannis.

“If that child is my brother, I can’t leave him.”

“You should die,” he insisted. “A woman cannot travel alone to a frozen hell.”

“She won’t go alone.” Gendry talked for first time. “I’ll go with her”

His words were received with a long silence and disapproving glances, ending in a discussion. Melisandre swore that those lands were ruled by the Great Other, and Stannis ordered Gendry to stay using his authority as king and uncle. Arya stared at him angry because of his idea, but she stayed quiet. Trying to discourage him was useless because Gendry was stupider than a fish so he will not hesitate. Instead of loosing her time thinking how to make him stay in the camp, she started to plan her trip. Two humans and two horses were a good number to travel, discreet enough and convenient to not become food for wolves. Stannis could not convince her to stay there, even after showing her a chain. He finally had to accept it and ordered Melisandre to help them secretly.

The muted servant collected provisions which were going to be preserved for a long time, and Harwin prepared two horses without knowing who were going to ride them. The saddlebags were prepared, weapond were chose. That night, the red woman drew a map and charted a line through the path they had to follow, explaining them that their starting point was an abandoned castle, Hoarfrost Hill. They had to follow in a straight line until reaching Bran, no matter what obstacles they could find.

Arya did not rest properly that night. They had to prepare themselves to leave before the first lights of morning to avoid people’s eyes, but her sleep was interrupted by dreams of blood. Bran was in her thoughts; when he reyes opened, his name fled from her mouth. Even so, the travel was not going to be postponed and she cursed her own obstinacy. Jon was vulnerable, but she could never abandon Bran in the cold moors beyond the Wall.

Time of leaving came, a lament tried to escape from her throat. She controlled herself, knowing that Gendry was staring at her. The dark trees hid part of the sky and their branches covered their faces in fantastic patterns. _Time of wolves,_ she thought while a black accompanied of a white one slipped to them. That shade was long and slender like a sword, the face was sad. Arya left the reins of her stallion.

For the first time since he opened his eyes, Jon embraced her “I saw you through a red veil,” he whispered, holding her weakly. “Come back. I don’t wanna loose you again.”

Arya held him too, knowing that she had to go. Feeling a big pain in her chest she left him and mounted the horse. Jon have not talk that much since he opened his eyes, but that was not the kind of hug she was waiting for. A single tear crossed her face.

Just one tear.

Gendry kept his mouth closed and the travel was silent. Arya thanked to not waste her forces talking about stupid stuff. In the morning of the ninth day, they saw the towers of Hoarfrost Hill and they arrived there before night, so they could rest before crossing the Wall. There were not barriers, but main entrance had two big doors, too heavy so they could not open them even joining. After circled the old walls, they found the godswood, where snow accumulated over dreary trees whose leaves withered, fell and blew in the wind. A door disgorged in a kitchen, where they lighted some fire.

While Gendry prepared some food, Arya decided to heat some water. She used it to take a bath behind a wooden panel, enjoying the last bath she could take before going. After eating their dishes was the turn of Gendry, so she packed their things in a way that they could stay with a similar provision of food, water and weapons but she packed for herself the powders given by the red priestess; Gendry feared magic, even inoffensive.

That night she had dreams of wolves, so vivid that made her awake trembling. The wolves of her dream were following her until they reached an unknown castle where some black brothers tried to kill her with arrows. She howled with anger and destroyed their throats before eating them. When she opened her eyes, she had some difficulties to know what reality was and what was fantasy, but instead of sleeping again she stared at Gendry’s face. He was slept, not so far of her. When he was unaware his frown relaxed, he seemed younger. Vulnerable. Arya moved her arm and touched his cheek; she liked the touch of his skin and repeated the caress without disturbing his dreams. She left her place and laid next to him, like she used to do in the old times.

On the following day she woke up alone between the cold blankets realizing that she slept more hours than she wanted to. Fire was burning so Arya put some water to heat while she dressed and then, prepared an infusion with a leaf of mint. Gendry did not return so she decided to go for him after drinking her cup.

The sun was shining. She saw Gendry sat under a sad faced weirwood staring at his hammer. For a reason she could not understand, she wanted to laugh. “Your red god gave you a nice day,” she said walking to him. After saying those words, she saw a strange shade between the trees. One, two, three. She walked slow and bent her knees next to him. “Men behind you. Prepare your hammer, we’ll attack now.” She grabbed her sword.

She never left her Needle away of her.

Fast light lightnings they lifted, and men revealed themselves. Arya killed the man who attacked her and then avoided a second. Gendry gave him a hammer blow that made his head sound like something was breaking. Another one tried to catch her when she was killing a young soldier, but a big hand grabbed his hair and pushed him away before using the hammer. They fought until there were four dead bodies and a soldier crying in pain. Almost a boy. His ribes probably were broken and his bones probably destroyed by the hit of the metal hammer. Arya told Gendry to hold him. “Who are you? What do you want? How many of you are?”

Too scared and terrified to talk, the boy kept his mouth closed. Arya used her Needle to cross his hand and a yell told her that they were five, that they had to spy the castles of the Night’s Watch. _A Bolton_ , she realized looking at his dirty cloak. The ribs were broken, and he had no chance to live. Those kinds of hits were mortal, so she decided to give him some mercy before turning to Gendry. “How do you feel?”

He was well, but his hand had a horrible sign of a sword. Gendry was taken to the kitchen, where his words were ignored; Arya forced him to sit while she looked for the bandages.

“Is not mortal,” she put some ointment after healing his wound. “It will be annoying for you but if you keep it clean it will be well.”

Gendry stared at her for a long time, like he feared her. Arya did not realize that she was so near to him. She could feel the heat radiated by his body under the coarse chemise, she could feel his heartbeats like they were her own. Why was he afraid of her? She approached to him and took his flushed face between her small hands until she could feel his breathing. “Once I told you I could be your family,” she whispered. “You told me I could be just your lady, but you never answered me what I asked of you.”

Her heart was beating so fast while she waited. Her hands started to shake. Gendry’s tongue was tied when he tried to answer; surprisingly, he had the bravery of taking her hand and lacing their fingers together. “Arya… I can’t do this,” he said after a long silence. “You’re a lady. You deserve someone better than me. I’m just an insignificant smith.”

He looked away.

She gulped.

At first, she could not understand what he meant until an unexpected anxiety made her drop his hands away. She forced him to look at her. “I’m not a lady. I stole, lied and murdered people. Mi heart is filthy and I’m not worhty of my house or my noble status. I’ve never been.”

“That doesn’t matter!” he yelled and pulled her away. His face showed a big anger. “You’ll always be a lady and I’ll be a bloody bastard! Don’t fake that is not important, we knew it is!”

Screaming, she pushed Gendry and straddled on him. “You are not just a bastard, you are stupid!” Her hands restrained his body. “I spent my dammed childhood thinking no one loved me! My family was dead, and you were the only one who was interested on me without expecting anything on echange! I love you, stupid, and I don’t mind what people may say or if you are a bloody bastard!”

There was silence. His eyes seemed more luminous than ever for her and she saw him like the man who was going to love her even if she did not deserve him. Arya approached to him overwhelmed by her own need and kissed him. He embraced her with all his forces and answer to her kiss like he was a hungry man who wanted to devour her. “Swear you’ll never leave me,” she whispered.

Sharply, she took the multiple layers that covered her body away and laid next to him. When he took her between his arms and stared at her she had no fear. They were not a lady or a bastard. They just were a man and a woman who desired each other more than anything.

“I swear. I’ll never leave you,” he said before kissing her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say I think this is a bit sweet for a gendrya, but whatever, arya and gendry deserve lots of love so why making that difficult 😂  
> this was like zero to hero but I think arya is the one who could confess at first because gendry is like too shy (?)


	19. Chapter 19

After two days resting in Hoarfrost Hill, they decided it was time to cross the Wall. A pair of wineskins were empty, so they fulfilled them with some water of the small creeks near to the castle and left the horses pasturing in the godswood; the stallions of the dead soldiers were find near, tied to an old stake. The animals were freed after Arya took off their saddles and bags of their old owners which were half full of dried meat and other things.

The Wall was the most impressive building that Gendry had ever seen. _So, this is what protects us,_ he thought staring over him. Strange shades danced in the silver surface of the ice, which was tall enough to confuse with the sky. They found the passage indicated by Melisandre; a collapsed tunnel where was a small pathway. The iron doors were open and there were dark stains on the walls. “It looks like blood,” said Arya. “There was a battle.”

When the cold air touched their faces, Gendry felt better. The tunnel smelt like loneliness, that terrified him. The other side of the Wall was not so different of the woods he saw before crossing, and they found some paths that were covered of snow but wat the same time were passable. They rode and lose the sense of time, there were not big roads, just dried rivers bed and small trails demarcated with pebbles that sometimes crossed between them. When they lost their way, Arya stared at sky and followed the stars so they could go ahead.

His body was frozen until the bone, but Gendry felt so happy. He could not even try to hide his happiness under a sullen attitude because when he puckered, his mouth curved into a smile and he could not control himself. Those days he spent with Arya in Hoarfrost Hill ere the best of his life. Nothing could decrease his joy, note even the possibility of dying.

It was worth if he could awake next to her an receive her delicate kisses.

Before, just having that kind of ideas could make him feel stupid. What could a bastard like him offer to a lady? For him, thinking about her just like a friend was easier. If he did not give a name to those painful feelings which were in the depths of his heart, he could not be hurted. Jealousy, sadness, wrath… He could name those, but he could not give a name to his feelings for Arya. He did not understand them, just knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his time and staying next to her forever. She was smart, brave and her smile made him tremble. Holding her under the yellow leaves of the godswood made him happy and when he thought about it, his face burned.

But nevertheless, a disgusting sensation took possession of him. A common man like him, a smith, could not sleep with a high-born lady. Especially a bastard. Considering it calmly made him realize that she was dishonored. She was dishonored by him. “I’m sorry,” he said with his voice trembling.

They were laying under a tree, between enormous roots which were useful to shelter from ice and hid them. Horses were sleeping next to them while they had their eyes completely open because of fear. Darkness was frightening, or rather what was hidden inside it. Gendry did not want to admit that he was at the edge of believing those stupid histories told to children to keep them quiet. “Shut up or we’ll be eaten by ghosts,” laughed Arya. “Why are you apologizing?”

He tried to explain her what was in his mind, but his voice trembled so much, so she could not understand at first. His heart was beating fast and finally, when Arya understood what he meant, her body froze. The small hand which were holding him pressed his shoulders while she hid her face in his chest. A deep sound got out of her mouth and he felt worse than ever. Arya was crying louder and louder, her chest moved spasmodically, and her throat made noised which became into guffaws. She was laughing. “I thought you meant something really bad,” she said after a long time. Arya told him clearly she was not disgusted, and her stubbornness imposed over his own ideas about ladies and plebs like him, so he decided to stop feeling embarrassed of loving her.

So, he realized after a time travelling there was just one terrifying thing. Nightmares. Not his, because he slept like a brick, but Arya had strange dreams. In the camp of lady Stoneheart she used to appear with an exhausted expression, he stared her when she did not realize. He wanted to ask her what happened, but he was afraid of bothering her. So, he finally dicovered she had nightmares. Once, when she was sleeping, he listened a few words in an unknown language. Another night, she howled. The worst moment was her voice talked in their own language to say that Arya Stark was going to die by her own left hand. Since that day, he paid attention to awake her if she had nightmares.

Every day, they were closer to the real North where weather was ruthless. The sky was grey most of time, but they had to hid into caves to escape of the snow, which fell in the form of strange stones big as his fists. When the sun shone and it fell on the ice, its light blinded them and trees became into dark shades against the snow. Their advance was slow but constant, they were young and strong enough to survive.

“If we sabe Bran and take Winterfell again we could travel for a time,” she said a night while cleaning her sword. “We’d be free to do it.”

They were going to be free to do it… if they could survive that cold hell. In the beginning, the forest protected them of snow until vegetation started to disappear and the paths became hostile. They saw some savage men two or three times, so they hid. At least there were many bushes and they could sleep between them. There were not animals to hunt and days started to look alike, they eat just a little and stayed silent for hours. They advanced fast as they could, until their bodies hurted them. Gendry had lots of hematomas, but he did not complain.

_Where will we find him?_

That question was always inside his head. He felt frozen, hungry, and exhausted, but when he glanced the face of the girl next to him, he decided that none of that mattered to him. He was going to follow her until his death, and he knew every day could be the last one.

One night, she talked to him. “Sometimes, I’m scared. Maybe the red woman is wrong.”

They were in a cavern that night, it was warm… as a cold cavern could be. Their blankets separated them of the cold stone, and she was laying over him. “Why?” he asked.

“Bran was a damaged child. I mean, he fell of a tower. I don’t know if he could survive, but if he did, I can’t let him alone. What kind of sister lcoul do that? And what will happen if we don’t find him?”

He messed her hair. “You should rest. Sleep.”

“I cannot.”

“I’ll take care of us. I’ll guard.”

Her voice trembled. “I’m not talking about that. I can’t sleep, I’m afraid. I can’t rest because I see thing when I’m sleeping, terrifying things that make me believe I’m crazy. I haven’t felt this kind of fear since a long time.”

Gendry gulped and held her body against his, hoping he could give her some solace. Even if he knew it was useless. They were a long time holding each other so he could feel her body trembling. And her tears. He could not see her because of darkness, but when he touched her cheek, his hand moistened. Arya used to be so strong, unbreakable and he could never think she was able to lose heart. But she did, and her crying made him feel afraid for her because he could not give his help: he could be just a useless witness of her pain.

Gendry took away some pine needles which were in her head and held her until the tears stopped. “Don’t dare telling someone I was crying,” she grumped.

“I would never, I swear,” he answered. The next day was better, and she felt better. They mounted and left the cavern. Time after that, a farm appeared in front of them next to a frozen lake. Until they confirmed the place was empty, the weapons were in their hands waiting for a fight.

A snowstorm fell over the white plains. While it was happening, they explored the empty spaces. The old furniture, a distaff, a mil, everything was covered by the dust of years. There was some wheat which could be useful to feed their horses, and there was some wood near of a chimney. Even thinking they had a long way to follow, they decided to use some of the red woman’s powders. Just a little, Arya always said that northern places were colder and more dangerous, they could not waste them just because they were cold. In their wineskins they found some rest of purple liquid which was drink with anxiety, but they did not touch the cured meat, the almonds, or their honey. Holm oaks abounded near of the farm and they found lots of acorns which Arya used to prepare a bitter paste. “Don’t be such a baby,” she said when he stared at her confused and disgusted. “Eat.”

Gendry felt like he have not eat in years, so he devoured his portion in a few minutes, but he hated raw acorns. He liked acorn bread or acorns with meat. He felt so hungry, why did his stomach have a memory? Bread, milk, butter. Hunger made him dream with enourmous feasts where he was sat next to Arya in front of a table full of food, and she gave him some pieces of meat pies while he held a glass of wine against her lips. He was so hungry, and he could give his arm for food. 

After a week, the storm disappeared, and they could go away. In those days, their food was consumed but at least there were some rivers, and they could catch some fishes. Wind and ice affected the vegetation, which grew in strange shapes at ground level. Then, snow fell again over them for days. They mounted until they saw a mountain covered with red trees where crows nested. “We must go there,” she indicated. “We have no choice.”

He tried to answer, but the only sound he could made was a strange throat noise.

A crow descended to them and landed on her stallion´s horse. The animal seemed like it was saying _come_ to Arya. Then, another landed on his hammer and said _come._ _Come. Come. Come._ _Come. Come._ He thought he was insane and feel fear. _I’m being stupid, I’m a man,_ he reprimanded himself. _I can’t be frightened by crows._ But he was frightened. Frozen. Hungry. Arya seemed like she felt the same.

While climbing, they got wet by the snow which was falling from the sky and the branches. When they reached the half of the path, they saw lots of dead bodies half buried. Some of them were just bones, other were a formless set of flesh and guts. Some of them nakes, some of them dressed in black garments or animal fur. All their hands were black too. Some animals guarded them without turning. He showed them to her and she put a finger against her mouth, he almost could hear her saying _shut up, idiot._ The horses stopped, because the odour of the corpses made them nervous. There were some skulls which seemed like staring at them, he could swear they did. _Definitely I’m crazy,_ he told himself while petting the neck of his stallion. For her part, Arya carefully watched the bodies, the ground, the giant white stones. The crows flied into a fissure which was almost invisible to them. They did not return. Knowing that weather was going to be terrible the rest of the day, they decided to dismount and stay for a while away of the corpses- they could be just dead people, but stay being terrifying. The horses seemed better when they were aparted of the odour of descomposed flesh. “Few men venture here.”

An unknown voice. It was harmonious, like the sound of cristals. Gendry took his hammer fast and Arya grabbed her sword. Everything was darkness until a torch in the hands of a girl illuminated the walls. Not a girl, but another creature who was smaller than Arya and had skin like a deer. Big brilliant eyes. “Who are you?” he demanded showing his weapon.

The creature stared at him with sweet eyes until he felt embarrassed of himself. A part of him wanted to leave his hammer away, but he had to protect Arya. That creature was small but maybe was dangerous too.

“Is a child of the forest, Old Nan told us their stories, I never thought I was going to meet one,” said Arya putting her sword away. “We are looking for someone.”

The child pointed the black space in front of them. “I know who can help you. You must follow me,” said before started to walk. They did the same and the small place became in a cavern. It was wide and twisted, and his head was hit by roots. They went deeper and deeper, the only light was the torch. “Those are weirwood roots. My father used to pray in front of one of these trees in our godswood,” whispered Arya. “It is supposed that people cannot lie in front of them.”

They crossed some bifurcations until the walls diverged into a space which was very large. There were many children of the forest, with golden eyes staring at them with curiosity. They dressed cloaks of leaves that whispered at their steps and crowns made with dried flowers just like the child who guided them. “My brothers and sister will take care of your animals. You must come with me.” After following her, their feet collided with bones. Some of them were probably of giants, other had fantastic shapes. A rumour of water captured their attention: the child gave them the torch before climbing a root which seemed like a bridge over an abyss. “I must follow my way alone since this point. You have to stay here” The small body was swallowed by darkness, leaving after it a trace of dehydrated leaves.

The flames of the torch gave a red glare to the cave. A flock of crows fluttered and they followed the dark shapes with their eyes, some of them landed on a skeletal hand, white as milk. It belonged to a statue crowned with red leaves, pale and twisted, sat over a throne of white roots. An eye opened, burning like a flame.

La pequeña figura caminó hasta ser tragada por la oscuridad, dejando tras de sí un rastro de hojas secas. Las llamas daban a la caverna de un resplandor rojizo. Una bandada de cuervos revoloteó a su alrededor. Los siguieron con la vista, viéndolos posarse sobre una mano esquelética blanca como la leche. Pertenecía a una estatua coronada de hojas retorcida y pálida, asentada sobre un nido de raíces que formaban un trono. Un ojo se abrió ardiendo como una llama. Alongside, there was a young boy almost completely covered by moss, whose auburn hair shone. His white eyes shone too. Arya seemed like she wanted to curse. “He waited a long time,” said the statue with a broken, old voice. “He knew someone was going to come here for him. Trees told me you were near, but I did not think you’d arrive soon. For a tree, the time is different, it runs with sun and water.”

His eye was staring at Arya with his eye. Red, brilliant. Then, he stared at Gendry, but ignored him to see her again. “What’s happening to Bran?” she demanded with a trembling voice.

“He is watching. He is watching with thousand eyes and one. My flesh is dying and I’ll be part of this tree soon,” he said pointing to the roots. “Your brother have been with me for years, he is learning of this tree and searching for the truth that men forgot. He’ll take my place. He is not like you anymore.”

Gendry did not understand, that conversation about trees meant nothing to him. “What are you saying?” yelled Arya. “Why can’t he look at me? Do you mean he is not my brother anymore?”

The eye shone like fresh blood.

“I saw the day when he fell. He’ll never move his legs again and he’ll never be the same boy you knew,” he answered in a low voice. “He is a Stark. Go to rest. Eat, sleep. Meet the others. Then, you will talk to your brother and ask him by yourself, wolf girl.”

_The others?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least Melisandre was right this time 🤔 I wanted a dramatic moment with the corpses but then I thought "hey, there are two places where you can enter to the three eyed raven cave, so why can't I imagine more fissures in the mountain?? Whatever, why making that difficult for our guys-


	20. Chapter 20

Those caves were dark as pitch. There was something strange, ancient magic old as the world. Arya had never been in a place which was so quiet, she could hear water passing through the stones, the wings of crows, the roots of the weirwoods growing and growing under the black ground. The skeleton in front of them finished to talk and a group of children of the forest appeared. Their skin had spotted patters like deers, and there was something unhuman in the depths of their beautiful gold eyes. Their voices were pure as winter wind when they laughed. Gendry’s hands were hold by their small hands and then, they did the same to her.

They were taken through the tunnels to a small cavity where Gendry felt asleep. Arya was going to do the same because the goatskin that covered the ground were comfortable, but she heard some voices which were not from the children of forest. Less melodic, deeper. She tried to stay awake, but she felt asleep soon.

Her awakening was after hearing some sweet chants. The notion of time was lost, and she could not distinguish at first time the place where they were resting. Maybe in the sky the moon shone like a silver circle, or maybe the blinding sunshine. The image of a dead animal was following her in the darkness. From the distance she could see two torches in the hands of a dark shape. Silently, Arya moved away. Gendry still sleeping, so she walked to the light, where it was accompanied by two small shapes which drove some animals. “Hodor!” she yelled.

One of the torches fell to the ground. “Hodor! Hodor. Hodorhodorhodorhodorhodor.” He tried to bend his knee in front of her, but she did not let him but wrapped her arms around him. Hodor was part of Winterfell like her family was. He laughed, staring at her with innocence. The small shapes stared at her too, with green eyes dark like the moss of the walls.

Their names were Meera and Jojen, and their faces were the same face of Howland Reed.

While the talked, some steps interrupted them; the child who guided them through the tunnels at first. With a strange smile she said Bran was awake, conscious, waiting for her. Arya followed the girl, stumbling. There was a light between the brown hands, but it was to small. Arya closed her eyes, the sound of the river became stronger, she could perceive better the odors. The cavern where Bran was waiting smelt like black.

Opening her eyes, she did not see anything more than darkness, but the child started to light some torches around them. Bran was there, with his blue eyes fixed on her face. The throne of roots was alive, beating like a heart. His face was not the same: the child who loved climbing was not there anymore.

His expression was tired, but he smiled. Arya approached to him. As she could, she held him near to her. He did the same. They were silent for a long time. “I wasn’t waiting for you,” said the old skeleton. “I tried to talk to the red woman, but she didn’t understand my message, I was looking for your brother. When I saw you were coming, I never think you were able to arrive.”

A delicate sound like leaves accompanied his voice. Bran did not talk, he seemed happy to see her. Arya reminded her brother was quiet and a little bit shy sometimes, a nice child. She was more extroverted compared to him. “I saw how you attacked those soldiers in the abandoned castle,” he said finally. “I always knew you were going to get your own sword. You always defeated me when we played.”

He was skinny but tall like a young tree. His voice was deeper, but it broke sometimes.

He had the lips of her mother.

“They were dangerous.”

“Compared to the danger you’ll find here they were just like insects,” mumbled Bran. “There are many wights waiting for flesh and you wouldn’t cross without help. Probably you were able to cross through them, but by giving the life of the man who came with you.”

In that moment she understood the words of her brother: he knew about her fight with the soldiers of Bolton and that she was not alone. How a boy, whose legs were not capable of walking, knowing that? Maybe the old skeleton could practice magic, like the red priestess. Was he powerful? “How do you know that?” she inquired.

“He is more than a child, he is a thousand eyes with old wisdom, deep as the roots of ancient trees.” The ancient man moved with a horrible sound of bones breaking. “You are asking him why he knows what you have done. Between a thousand just only one born as a skinchanger, and only one skinchanger in a thousand is a greenseer. The old gods put their sign on him to sing their song.”

Skinchangers were just a tale for Arya: an ancient tale chosen by Old Nan to scare children. Sansa always yelled with those stories while Bran asked for more. Arya did the same, but she had to admit her brother was unsatiable. He used to love old tales.

A direwolf appeared with a dead animal in his mouth, followed by dark wolves that surrounded her growling. The direwolf went to her and showed them his sharped teeth before smelling her. Summer. His golden eyes were like his little mates. Summer licked her hand and went to sit next to Bran. “My heart had only one wish. Freedom,” he mumbled while petting the animal’s head. “I dreamt with wolves and crows for years. Our house used to be full of skinchangers. It is in our blood.”

The body of her mother came to her thoughts, the guards covered in blood… even the kindly man, through a delicate silver veil.

A groan resounded, warning her. It was not the voice of Gendry, Meera, Jojen or Hodor. It was neither the voice of the children of forest: it was dark, like the sound of a broken instrument. The old man seemed exhausted and stared at her with his red eye burning. A sequence of whispers that came from his mouth confused her, then cold air, red leaves, and a flash of light blinded her. The grey eyes adapted to a white sky where a cold sun lighted a cave entrance. Some bodies in state of advanced decomposition stood, and the ones without legs were rotted in the ground. Slowly, dead animals arrived with their fur covered with a silver layer. Tears tarnished her eyes and Arya saw herself in the cavern again, gasping. “What have you done to me?”

“Ancient magic protects us,” said the old man without answering. “But they wait. They’ll wait their chance.”

One of the children appeared with something between his hands. It was a wooden bowl, containing a white pulp with some red lines. Bran ate it fast, eager. His mouth was stained, his eyes turned white and the bowl fell clattering. The lights turned off one by one, and the child made some signs to her. “Go,” said the ancient, “your brother will go soon.”

Confused, with a slight nausea, she abandoned that place. In the same cave where she met Hodor, she saw Gendry carrying heavy hay bales while the children of forest examined his war hammer. Other children talked in their unknown language, trying to indicate him where did he have to move the bales. Arya still hide until he finished his task. “You’re such a strong man,” she mocked while looking with interest the chemise which

“I met Meera Reed. She said you were here,” he answered shaking his clothes. “She’s cooking.”

Gendry took her to a small hut after fetching some dead branches and old logs. Jojen Reed was feeding a fire while his sister kicked a dough, like she was fighting. Hodor began to babble happy, and he infected Arya with his enthusiasm when he appeared with a big pot. Stew. Meat. A hot meal. Meera gave them a pair of bowls and spoons while debating with her brother the origin of the meat between squirrels or rats. Gendry was serving his own dish when he heard them: with a terrified expression left the bowl away and just ate some dried fish. He did not even try to eat the stew, but Arya ate her portion and then she ate the one he left away, meat was meat.

“There is a big danger outside,” said Jojen after eating. “You are lucky to be alive.”

Arya counted the days they spent riding, surprising herself when she realized they were at least a pair of months travelling. She used to be good with numbers, but she could not trust her own calculations. What was happening in the camp? Was Jon alive? Did he awaken or was he slept again? “We are strong,” she said simply while staring her empty bowl.

Meera asked them if they wanted to stay. Gendry and Arya accepted soon, because they could hardly remember the comfort of a mattress, even a straw mattress.

Arya had an old dream that night. A small girl dressed in black with a wooden stick between her hands, which was used for hitting another girl with white clothes while some men watched. Their faces were skulls. The girl in white was cruelty beaten while Arya stared at her from a corner. A fat man took her sweetly with his warm hands and took her next to the skulls. “You are weak,” said the small girl stamping the fallen girl until she started bleed, but that girl did nothing, she did not yell but there were tears in her face. _Stand up,_ thought Arya. _Stand up and answer before she’ll kill you._ But the girl stayed in the floor. The fat man laughed while petting the black fur.

“I’m not,” yelled the girl dying her tears. The skinny body was beaten again. All of a sudden, Arya was not a viewer anymore, but the girl in the floor. With her hands, she stopped the stick and plucked it, using it to hit the girl with fierceness until the wood broke. Seeing the small girl falling, she did not waste her chance to kill her. The white dress was taken off and rolled in the neck of her rival. A pair of small hands scratched her, but she did not stop until the body stopped moving. Arya threw the Waif’s body away with disdain. “You are thirsty for blood,” laughed the fat man petting a cat. “You have killed her a thousand times. You are a good girl.”

“You should be a good servant,” said the kindly man, kind as always. “Why don’t you accept it?”

_“Arya,”_ said Bran. _“Wake up.”_

“I feel your desire. Who are you?”

“ _Arya_.”

“As his servant you would never feel pain again,” he insisted kindly. “Just you and the Many-Faced God. You would be safe.”

“ _Arya!”_

The voice of her brother forced her to open her eyes. She was not in Braavos, she was into the cave.

She talked to Bran for a long time about what happened to her since the day she left Winterfell, and he did the same. A smile appeared on his face when she told him Jon was alive. Time passed and Arya lose the notion of day and night, of hours and days. The children of forest had a different way of counting time, so they could not help her. Especially because they could not talk in the common tongue, except Leaf. It was the name given to her by Meera and Jojen. She talked to her in name of her brothers and sisters, who were intrigued by her weapons. For they, a metal sword was interesting because they just knew how to make weapons of obsidian which protected them of those creatures, the wights. The greenseer had a sword made of steel, but it was full of death and bad spirits. Time ago, his name used to be Brynden and he used it to destroy his enemies.

Leaf was fast, agile, so she showed them the caves. Some of them were the tomb of thousand of animals: Arya did not know what kind of. Other places were covered in moss and ivy and served as rooms for the children. The only place Leaf never went by her own was a cavern where skeletons slept crossed by white roots. Arya did not like that place too. If Bran followed the steps of those creatures, he was going to end like them.

After hearing her fear, Jojen talked to her. “Bran is different. The children of forest are just a few and there is not greenseer between them since a long time ago. In the world of men there’s no place for them, but your brother is not like them, and his heart loves his family and home. He’ll never stop looking for it, even if he lives more than a normal human.”

Jojen was strange, but intelligent. More than intelligent, he was wise. The only thing that made him smile was her sister. Meera had a sweet face and she seemed younger. Arya catched her own brother staring at her when he thought no one was looking. Meera did not realize Bran loved her, but she had a special smile for him. Maybe she will love him in the future, despite everything, her brother was a good boy.

A day, Bran sat in the white throne and stayed there for hours. “I was into our old weirwood in Winterfell,” he said. “The army of Bolton is separated. If Jon plays his cards right, he’ll defeat his enemies. If he doesn’t… this will be the end of the house Stark.”

His words were like a cube of cold water for all of them, probably Jon was going to fight; in that case, Howland Reed was going to fight next to him.

Jojen seemed terrified and sad, he told them he desired to see the sky. Leaf took them outside while Bran talked to the greenseer. The sky was empty, there was no sun or moon, and it was so black, so Arya felt like she was in a world of white and black, like colors did not exist.

Since that day, Jojen was apathetic, worrying Meera until desperation. The only thing that could solace him was walking through the tunnels. 

Time was running out and Arya was consumed by inactivity and her own nerves. She wanted to leave, but not alone. Gendry was waiting for her and she felt thankful, but she did not have the bravery to ask her brother if he was going to leave with them. Bran seemed like he was not concious of time, like he was counting drops of water, stones, the bones of dead instead of minutes, hours, and days. His lips were almost red as blood. The same happened to the greenseer, who started eating the pulp as a pit with no end while the worm in his eye was dying and hanging from his eye. Arya used to stay away of him, but sometimes she went with Hodor to help her brother. She did not mind about that, but the red eye frightened her sometimes. There was something oppressive inside it.

One night, the door of the hut was opened. Leaf ordered them to dress fast and indicated that Arya had to follow her small brother whose golden eyes stared at her. They ran to the cave of the greenseer, where Bran was sat in the ground. In his head there was a crown of red leaves. His eyes were white. Brynden was like a white sculpture. “Something is threathenig your brother,” he said. “Give me your hand. I want you to see them.”

Fighting against the feeling of repulsion, she held his skinny hand. The first vision she had, the one of the frozen bodies was disgusting. At first, she could not see. The wind was howling like a wolf. Suddenly, a woman with white skin walked through the snow. She was pale as the moon was, and she had a blue light between her hands. She was the most beautiful woman of earth and she was surrounded by white delicate bodies which carried blue lights. “They are near,” whispered an old voice. “I need someone to take the child away before…”

All their eyes were blue. The woman stared at her without seeing. She grimaced and moved her lips, but the vision ended before she could talk. Arya realized she was in the cave again, but the scent of ice hurt her. Leaf appeared out of nowhere, talking in her own language. “They are here,” she mumbled in the common tongue. “They had to go.” She ran and Arya tried to follow her, but the other child made signs to tell her she had to stay.

After that, she felt the red eye rivetted on her, so she walked to the man in the tree. “A man must know how to see before flying. Tell that to your brother for me.”

“I will,” she promised while looking at Bran. “We’ll defeat the invaders and I’ll take him to our own weirwood.”

A cough interrumpted her. “Every greenseer must have a tree, and your brother… he’ll be the memory of this world since the day of my death. He had to be protected at any cost. The shades you saw are not shades of the past. They are real. Now, dig under my feet. Fast.”

Arya obeyed without thinking, and she ignored the pain where her hands stared to bleed, and her cuticles flayed. A long thing wrapped in a rotten bag was waiting there. The string which capped it was unleashed.

A sword. A sword which was even more slender and lighter than her Needle.

The greenseer closed his eyes. “I used to have a name. Brynden. I had a mother. I loved a woman more than anything. For her I hurt my brother, and he took my eye. It used to be named Dark Sister. Take it. You’ll need it.”

Arya tried to say something, but she could not. “Arya!” yelled Meera appearing from a tunnel. “Wights! We must flee!”

“Go,” said the old man. “My body is dying.”

Summer advanced, grunting to the darkness. Hodor had a sledge and he moved Bran into it. Jojen and Gendry covered her brother with blankets before taking their bags. The crown of red leaves fell from his head. Hodor held the strings of the sledge to drag it. Meera and Arya went after all of them, Leaf was in front of the group holding a torch. “The greenseer will distract them while you go. The horses are waiting.”

Lots of children followed them, fifty or sixty. Then, a sound made Leaf yell. “Run!”

Hodor was growning in pain, but he moved fast. Arya glanced behind just to see shades running and dragging to them. The children separated to stop them. Suddenly, a dead hand took Meera by her hair, but Arya turned and pushed her away of the body, crossing it with the sword in her hand, Dark Sister. Leaf forced her to run. The whights surrounded her. A strong noise deafened Arya and a strong force reached her, making her fall. The world twisted and her face crushed the ground while something burned near of her. Her hand was held, strong arms raised her, and she felt she was against a masculine body. _He came for me,_ she thought at seeing the war hammer. _Stupid Gendry._

He ran, the bodies did not stop running too. Gendry finally meet the rest of the group. The children were less because they wanted to stop the wights by throwing volatile projectiles and something than seemed like fireballs. Meera had the torch and guided them, forcing Jojen to go fast. He was distracted since the last of the children disappeared.

Then, Jojen aparted Meera of his side. “I’m sorry, Meera. Tell our parents I love them.”

Arya glanced him running in the opposite direction of them, to the wights. He moved to one of the bifurcations where the black river ran. Arya saw him in her mind, sacrificing himself, in the water with dead bodies following him. Meera wept aloud, but she did not stop running. The wights were away and they were near of the end of the tunnel, a light filtered through an open door. The horses were tied next to a white root.

Gendry left Arya and they tied the sledge to Summer while Hodor closed the door, but despite his efforts, some bodies left the tunnel. Arya held Dark Sister in her right hand and with her left she drew her Needle. “Run!” she exclaimed while moving to attract the attention of the whights.

With both swords, she threaded the cold flesh of the nearest bodies. For each body that stopped moving, another attacked her. She was alone with Hodor, who suffered holding the door. Her hands were in total pain, because she grabbed her sword with all her force… but the fear of dying there was less than the fear of losing the people she loved. She was not going to lose them, even if she had to die. A shade moved to her over a white horse, it was not a whight. He raised one of his legs to kick her away with brutality. He tried to attack Hodor, he wanted to free the whights. Arya summoned the courage to move and vaulted to his horse.

Although the man tried to pull her off, but she did not leave him until Dark Sister passed through his neck. With him, the horse fell over the snow, both bodies smashed her right calf. Arya yelled and tried to move but her own fear, Hodor’s screams and the sound of the bodies dragging to her were confusing, she could not think. The horse on her leg shaked, she needed to take him away, but the wights were coming for her. She tried to fight them, but she knew she was lost.

A howl resounded near to her. A big direwolf, moved like a grey arrow to the body who threatened her and rooted out his head with bared teeth. Some small grey shades imitated his act, so Arya could push the horse away of her leg. She hardly did it and Summer appeared and sat in front of her. She did not think twice and grabbed the silver hair and mounted, praying for her brother to be safe with Meera and Gendry. “Let’s go, Hodor!” she yelled desperately.

“HODOR!” he denied moving his head.

The door started to tremble. Arya knew that she had to save herself to save her brother, and that meant leaving Hodor. Summer was spured while the wood petrified and broke as glass, splintering in a thousand pieces while the wights attacked Hodor, biting and hitting him. She looked away and Summer ran.

Gradually, the direwolves followed them until they reached the horses. The biggest one stared at her with golden eyes which almost made her fall of Summer. _Nymeria, Nymeria saved me,_ she thought. The sledge was dragged by the horses which galloped in a constant rhythm. Bran’s eyes still white but he was safe, like Meera and Gendry.

_We didn’t die,_ she cried in her mind. _But which was the cost?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hodor's end is awesome, it must be used and recycled again and again and again. I read that he'll probably die in winds of winter with the sword he took from the crypt. He can learn to use it... or maybe Bran will use his body to fight the wights💔
> 
> I read a thery that says Melisandre is the daughter of the greenseer and a woman named Shiera Seastar who was his half sister (TARGARYENS!). It was supposed she was born after his exile and if you think about it, yes, she may be too old. Probably Shiera died and then Melisandre was sold as a slave. The woman who said "Melony", could be a servant or her mother dying. The greenseer used to be a man who loved magic and Shiera knew a lot about it too, and she loved reading about old spells and that stuff. And Shiera's mother was something like a witch too, she used magic to seem younger. I mean, they were able to practice magic and blood is important in the books. Phisically, Melisandre could look like Shiera (both beautiful, and with a similar description) and like Brynden (white skin and red eyes). Melisandre has red hair but maybe it is dyed or something like that so the theory is interesting


	21. Chapter 21

“I’m scared.”

Winter surrounded the Gates of the Moon. Robert insisted he wanted to sleep with Sansa because storms frightened him. She locked her door every night, telling him it was not properly, they were betrothed… but he always insisted until her heart melted and made her open the door.

“Why don’t they stop?”

Sansa just wanted to sleep. “Is the Smith. He doesn’t like evil people and he hits his hammer to frighten them.”

“I’m not evil!” he cried hiding under the sheets.

“So, you don’t have to worry. Sleep, Sweetrobin.”

A day, rain stopped, and the mountain became in a beautiful and cold giant. Snow covered the castle like swan’s feathers. Seemed like it was going to be a hard winter, but Sansa was no worried. She was safe and sound. The only problem in her life was her sister and her situation, but she knew they were going to rescue her, to heal her wounds and to love her. When she told Robert about Arya, he was so happy because she could tell tales: yes, Arya knew lots of them. More than Sansa. Northern legends, songs about warriors, the stories of soldiers and that kind of things.

To keep her own position in the castle, she spent all her time next to Robert, who loved her like a son could do. Sansa needed to influence him on her favor, so they played games, sang, shared their food. _If this still like this we’ll wed,_ she thought one day while reading a parchment outside the castle. _Robert is a good boy._ _I cannot love him, but I wouldn’t be sad._

The child was in the middle of the snow, in front of a snow castle. It seemed like it had lots of buildings of different sizes. It seemed… like Winterfell. Everything made Sansa nostalgic about her home. Cold, snow, ice. Robert asked her to drink tea with pastries and she gave him a tired smile. Sansa did not want pastries. She wanted to go home and sewing a dress with a cup of tea and Lady sleeping near of her. _Lady_. The memory of the small direwolf almost made her cry.

Harry the Heir appeared and reached them. His cloak was blue, like the cloak of Robert, but he looked so different of the delicate child. He bent his knee and then told Sansa that Petyr needed her. “He did’t told me why does he need you.”

Robert glanced at him with anger, but Harry ignored him and offered his arm to Sansa, who hated him in that moment. How could she accept him without annoying Robert? Before the child started to yell, she kissed his red cheek. “I must go Sweetrobin, would you tell the maids I want something warm?” She bundled him with his cloak carefully. “I’ll go soon, I swear.”

Instead of accepting Harry’s hand, she gave him the parchment.

He took her to a chamber with enormous windows which glass was light blue. Sansa looked around her- furniture, rugs, mirrors. But there was not a sign of Petyr. Harry lied to her. Angry, she turned and asked for an explanation. “I can’t resist anymore,” he mumbled. “I don’t mind if you are bastard or heir, I’m not interested if you have gold or a name. I love you just for what you are. I’m your slave.”

“Harry... stop.”

Casually, she looked to the window, the crystals reflected a beautiful young woman with blue stones on her hair. A handsome young man was asking for her favor, like the knights of the old songs. “I swear I’ll protect you with my life,” he whispered kissing her hand. “Your face doesn’t leave my thoughts.”

He held her against his body before kissing her lips.

In her life, she had been kissed by a king, a dwarf, a fool and a kid. Until that moment, every kiss was terrible for her in their own way, but Harry was sweet and gentle. Her face flushed, her secret wish always was to be kissed by a knight who loved her enough to offer her his heart and devotion. She closed her eyes. Then, he stop. She could not talk to him and it was unnecessary. A groan forced her to turn to the door.

Sweetrobin.

He was crying. “I hate you, Harry!” he yelled with anger. “I’ll go to my castle and I’ll make you fly! Sansa loves me, not you!”

“Sweetrobin! Is not what you think!” she said trying to keep calm.

Robert glanced her with an expression that made her heart beating in agony. He fled; the blue cloak flew like a pair of wings. Sansa pushed Harry and ran after him, that stupid kiss could cause her to lose everything she worked for. Robert could not trust her and that was the most important thing to be safe, so she needed to find him and explain what happened. She was not guilty. Passing through the open door, she bumped into Myranda.

Sansa ran in search of Robert. After searching him between the people in the castle, she decided to ask for help. Bronze Yohn was in the library with Lyn Cobray and some servants and she went to him and talked about Robert but omitting the kiss. The servants were sent to inform the guards while Bronze and Cobray went to talk to the lords. Without realizing, Sansa went to the room where she was kissed. When she reached the door, she heard yells. “Stupid slag!” exclaimed Harry. “Let me alone!”

“No until you honor your promises!” Myranda. Sansa glanced at her from the door. The scene was terrifying: Myranda’s face, usually happy, was congested. “You are a coward!”

“Your father didn’t want you to marry me. I was betrothed! It’s not my fault!”

“You should come to me when we discovered her identity! Her pretty face tempted you, and you were stupid enough to fall!” she slapped him leaving a red sign on his face. “That bitch ruined my life! I’ll do the same to her!”

Hearing that made Sansa showing herself. “Excuse me? What are you saying?”

Myranda winced horribly. “You stole him. Harrold used to be mine until he fell for you,” she said laughing and crying at the same time. “He was mine and you snatched him!”

“You always knew I didn’t love you!” yelled Harry. “I was a friend, nothing more!”

Terrifyingly, Myranda pounced over Sansa, trying to grab her hair. Harry moved and blocked her, receiving scratches and hits of the woman. “Stop, Myranda! Robert is lost! He fled!”

“I know.”

Myranda had the expression of a hunter who trapped a big prey just to lose it mistakenly. “Did you… Myranda, did you tell Robert I was here?”

“Of course, I did! I advised Harry to meet you and told Robert you were here. He had to apart you of him, but he is too stupid to do something… I wish he die!”

Her evilness petrified Sansa, who could not understand her. A scream of anger fled from Harry’s mouth. Maybe Robert was between him and the Eyrie, but even if he desired the death of the child until some point, he had scruples. “Myranda… how could…?”

A strange noise interrupted him; it was like a wolf howling.

The pearls which hanged of the roof started to tremble. In the beginning, it was just a small thrill that became in a second into a movement that almost made her fall. The floor was moving and the objects over the tables fell and broke. Sansa felt something wrong in her balance and went to a wall, just to saw through the window a big amount of snow falling of the mountain. “Run!”

The window broke into a thousand pieces, but Harry could take her away. They left while panicked shouts crossed the air. People ran and crushed; Sansa felt like a white cloud covered her eyes while her feet touched the trembling earth. Someone pushed her and she fell. She could not move, she was scared, she was not able to think. Suddenly, a hand grabbed her and take her away of the confusion. Harry. They went fast to the courtyards just to watch the buildings falling in pieces. The snow crossed the wall, and their legs gave up.

When the earth stopped trembling, her head stopped spinning. Sansa was half buried into the snow and she could feel it over her eyelids, her eyebrows, and her mouth. She tasted it. It was the flavor of Winterfell. Everything was white.

The white sky turned to light blue again. Something warm held her hand. Harry. He did not leave her. Some people were moving, other stayed in the snow. Bronze Yohn was near of them, grumping. His arm was in a strange position.

“My armor saved me,” he tried to smile at seeing her while Harry gave him his cloak. “Are you hurt?”

After realizing they were fine, he asked Harry to adjust his bones. He did not yell while Harry obeyed him, and Sansa promised to send someone to take care of him. They found lady Anya, Petyr, Lyn Cobray, los Redfort. Alive, with more or less damage.

Robert was not there.

Nobody knew where he was.

The image of the child obsessed Sansa. She went away yelling frantically the name of her Sweetrobin. Even knowing the ruins could delay over her, she walked through them. She did not think about it because, for first time in her life, she cared for another person more than she did for herself. Petyr and Harry tried to convince her of going with them, but she ignored their supplications. She ascended part of the mountain until her feet were wet. “Sansa…”

Harry showed her a small hand between snow.

Sansa ran and dig without thinking, hurting her delicate fingers. Petyr forced her to move away and Harry followed her task. His hands did not stop until Robert was unearthed.

The small body was broken, cold. It was wrapped into the small blue cloak. Sansa hel her Sweetrobin next to her heart.

But she could not cry.

Harry lifted the corpse and they descended, watching how the wave of snow buried most of the Gates of the Moon. Almost everything had tumbled to the ground, except two towers which seemed like broken playthings. Until Petyr arrived to give people orders, they were disoriented. The maester had an enormous wound in his head, but his apprentices were alive and complete. Some men gathered the corpses, other the animals, other looked for something to eat. The towers were revised; they were safe, so they were going to have a place to sleep. “Snow is unstable in this season,” said Bronze Yohn while they waited for the refurbishment of their beds. “The slightest movement may displace them. We’re ants compared to the Giant’s Lance.”

Sansa was not hearing him at all. She was trying to wrap Robert’s corpse after his death. Corpse. A strange word.

That night they slept together, servants and lords over the cold stones of the tower. Sansa could hear some crying. Probably there were people dying under the snow, but they just found sixteen corpses. The smallest was Robert.

Her head could not stop thinking about him, so she left her place. The tower had five levels, each one composed by a circular room with stairs which rolled like a snake. She climbed the ladders and closed the door in the last level. There was a dark shade against the open window and when she went next to him. “When I was a child, I always feared we’d run out of food.,” smiled Petyr with sadness. “I never thought that could happen to me again.”

The landscape shimmered on white, like the garments of the maiden. “How many dead?”

“Lots of them. We are alive, as Redfort, Redfort, lady Anya, Myranda Royce, Harry, Yohn and Lyn Cobray are. The half of our soldiers. We found Symond Templeton’s body and I know there are at least two hundred disappeared.” He doubted and then whispered to her ear. “I sent some messengers to see what’s happening in the rest of the Vale. Mya Stone went to the path of the Eryie. Maybe she won’t ascend, probably it is destroyed. And that’s not all.”

“What?”

“Donnel Waynwood sent a messenger to the lords. I intercepted him. The Bloody Gate is damaged and there are savages around. He fears he’ll attack us. It’s complicated for us.”

“Why?”

“Harrold is the heir of Jon Arryn, but you could be considered Robert’s heir. You are his cousin and the niece of Lysa. In other places no one would care about you, but this people are different than the rest of the kingdom. This would end with blood. Yours, Harry’s… and mine.”

“I have a solution,” she said avoiding his eyes. “I’ll wed Harry.”

Petyr grimaced. “Sansa...”

“No one will wed me for love,” she said sadly. “If I marry him, I’ll save us. And I won’t be wretched.”

At next day, Petyr and the lords had a long discussion. Lyn Cobray was going to return to his castle, which was away of the Eyrie, probably in better state than the Gates. It could be a harsh trip but at least weather was not terrible as it used to be. While they talked, soldiers burned the corpses they found, to prevent diseases. Harry could not stop looking at Sansa while Petyr let the messenger talk to them. Lady Anya was bitter to him, criticizing him because he did not talk before. The discussion got worse, they started to fight. Half of the lords wanted Harry to rule them, the rest tried to explain Sansa had the same rights. Sansa and Harry were in silence, like two children letting adults talk for them. “There’s a solution,” she said finally. “If Harrold accepts me, I’ll be his wife.”

“No!” Yelled Myranda. “You cannot accept her, Harry! You can’t!”

A few hours after thar, in front of the last septon alive, Sansa accepted Harrold as his lord and husband, becoming in lady Arryn.

As an orphan, Petyr replaced her father. They walked between the servants, soldiers and lords who were alive. The cloak of Arryn was probably lost, but Harry gave her his own and put it around her shoulders with a gentle smile. Then, he slipped sealing ring of the house- which was rescued from Robert’s corpse, in her finger. The cold was so intense, but Sansa felt thankful to him.

After their vows were finished, they walked together with their hands united. Sansa felt a strange feeling of satisfaction when she glanced Myranda, whose beauty was gone. Her skin was like rancid butter. Her eyes had a sad expression, but Sansa did not care about her, she was guilty of Robert’s death.

She had what she deserved.

Food was acceptable but compared to other fests was miserable. Sansa simulated she was pleased, but her nerves got altered when another messenger came to tell them the savages were trying to conquer the Bloody Gate.

They wanted to cross and attack them in that vulnerable moment. They could smell their weakness. “How many?” asked Petyr.

“Three thousand or more, milord.”

Most people screamed while Sansa desired to disappear. _This is not happening,_ she tried to convince herself. _Is not real. I’ll wake up and Robert will be near of me weeping like a baby. This is not happening, and he’s not dead._

“I’ll go there,” said Harry. “I’ll take the half of my men; they are brave and strong. The rest will stay to protect my lady.”

Suddenly she was scared. Harry was an overbearing seducer of maiden, but he was not cruel or evil. All people asked him to stay there, but he did not listen. He even ignored Sansa when they were in the chamber which was prepared for them. “You should stay here. You don’t need to go.”

“I’ll fight,” he said staring at her, proud of his own bravery. “I’ll come back as a winner and I’ll build a castle for you, worthy of your beauty.”

“But they are three thousand,” she trembled. “Bronze Yohn has soldiers in Runestone and Lyn Cobray is going to Heart's Home. You should wait.”

“If I don’t go, they could defeat the soldiers of the Bloody Gate and reach us. I don’t want them here, they are dangerous. I’ll go,” he insisted. “Is my duty.”

He undressed her slowly. His hands were warm. Harry was a knight, like the ones from the old songs. Was not her dream to wed a knight?

But her heart still empty.

They had to show their linen to the lords at the next morning, and they felt satisfied of determine she was a maiden. Except for Petyr and Myranda. Nobody cared for her old husband after that. Sansa almost felt sad when Harry kissed her and mounted his horse. Her last impression about him was the young man disappearing with the sun shining in his hair. Why was he so brave? Why did he go to fight?

Her life minimized to wait. She was the lady of a destructed Vale. Messengers run with the ardent letters of Harry and the distressed answers of the lords, who still in the ruins because they feared the savages. After a month, letters stopped.

Harrold Hardying Arryn found his death on battlefield. His body was taken to her, with the lance which crossed his heart. “His assassin was the leader of the Burned Men,” said a knight. “Lord Harrold defied him to give us time of repairing one of our gates. He won and forgive that savage, but he threw his lance when lord Harrold was coming to us.”

With him, the house of Arryn ended. Was too soon to say that, but without an heir his name was going to die. His body was buried. Sansa was surprised of her own indifference. She used to cry, as she did for Lary or her family. But she could not cry for Harry because, at the end, he meant nothing to her. Any dream she could have in the Vale was uncapable of take roots there; her prays were not going to be answered.

“You are our lady,” declared Bronze Yohn when they were alone in front of his tomb. “What do you want to do?”

The house of Royce was extremely powerful and rich. Bronze Yohn could betrayed her to take control of the rest of the Valem but he was loyal. Sansa thought she could ask for a shelter, but that was not what she wanted. Lots of lords and heirs were dead for nothing and, in that moment, she decided she needed to advance fast. “This is not my home, lord Royce. The blood of the andals is not in my veins as in yours,” she whispered while looking the stele which had the name of her husband. “We must seal an agreement.”

“Are you asking for my hand?”

“We’ll advance to Winterfell as we planned. We’ll join my brother, and you’ll gave me your soldiers. In exchange, I offer you my rights in the Vale. We must contract mutual help and loyalty between our houses.”

“What if you have a son?”

“He’ll be squire in Runestone and he’ll receive the land of the house Hardying. He will receive the Eyrie… or its rests. He won’t receive the title of warden,” she answered quickly. “Let me make my position on this matter quite clear. You will help my house in war, and we’ll do the same for you.”

He doubted but accepted. Many copies of their contract were given to some witnesses. Bronze Yohn was going to return to his home, taking people with him. Sansa dejected his offer to join them. She decided to cross the Vale with Petyr and Mya Stone until Heart’s Home. He was going to stay with the rest to protect the Vale or going to her if he could.

Crossing near of battlefield sounded so stupid and terrifying, but she was able to do it. If they could go to Heart’s Home, they were going to cross until the Fingers; there, they could obtain more soldiers and provisions. In her life, Sansa never had mounted so much, but she had to do that. There was knight who was capable of guide them through the mountains, Shadrich. A small man, almost small as Tyrion was. He seemed like a boy with an old face. “I’ll give you gold when we arrive to the Fingers,” told him Petyr, “but if we don’t reach them, there will be nothing.” Their mules were saddled, and they left after Sansa saved her copy of the contract and the linen which showed she was a maiden to took them with her.

A small forest of poplar was their first shelter. There was snow, but they had many blankets, it was not so terrible. “Can we light some fire?” Sansa mumbled. She was hungry, and the food chosen by Mya was not her favorite. Dried meat, cheese, bread which was like a stone. In the forest there were many birds, Mya could not have any problem to hunt and cook them.

“Fire?” laughed the girl, confusing her. “We can’t. It may attract the Burned Men. They would burn us alive.”

Every day was more difficult than the previous one. Sansa’s body ached, she never liked to ride horses except for impressing people. What was she thinking? Her legs were almost raw, every morning she woke up with her eyes full of tears, but she painted reality to avoid it. She used to imagine she was riding to show her devotion to her gods, she knew there were lots of maidens who traveled from the farthest regions of the kingdom to the sanctuaries of the Seven. That idea made her pain go away.

Going fast they had more opportunities to reach Heart’s Home alive. They traveled at night, never lighting fire, or eating something warm. A day when they were crossing a hill, Sansa almost started to cry when she saw some savages. They were like enormous bears ready to eat her. They were far away but she still scared. Fortunately, in that zone snow melted time ago and the grey stones camouflaged their clothes. Her eyes stared a man who was armed to the teeth but at least he could not see her because trees hid her. “Burned Man,” whispered Shadrich.

 _You must be strong, you must resist,_ she told herself. She never let her companion seeing her tears. She was so scared, but they were nearer to Heart’s Home. Just six days more. Mountains and snow disappeared in front of valleys surrounded by hills. Weather was nice and they could even collect some fruits from trees. Sansa liked apples. The sensation of the fruit in her hand made her feel better.

She could barely collect two or three when a branch cracked. A tall man wearing a helmet decorated with black pieces of leather was smiling near of them. Paying attention, she realized those small pieces were ears. _Ears._ Immediately, more people appeared and trapped Petyr. Shadrich was going to fight, but his sword was away of him, so he was trapped too. A man tried to approach to Sansa, but Mya threw him a pebble and fiercely moved in front of Sansa with a thick branch which used to threaten them. “Don’t touch her, you fuckin’ bastards! Your names! Now, cowards!”

The tall man laughed. “I’m Rother, son of Syrett. Those are my brothers and sisters.” More people appeared, with knives and spears. They told their names arrogantly. Dally, Junett, Alles…

“I can pay!” said Petyr. There was a knife pressing his neck. “I have some gold here but is nothing compared to what I’m offering to you.”

A precious blonde girl mocked. “You are offering us our gold.”

“Lille is right. Your gold is ours. Your mules are ours. And your women. Take the animals, Cherret,” told Rother to a boy. “Kill the men.”

Sansa pretrified.

“No!” exclaimed Petyr. “Listen to me, Rother, son of Syrett. My house is rich. Gold like you’ve never dreamed in your life, like you can’t imagine. Enough for your sons and the sons of your sons. I’ll give you twenty big carts full of gold. Gold, women, whatever you want, I swear.”

“If your gold is not in my hands, it values less than your promises”, he spit on his face.

Mya was separated of Sansa’s side with a brutal slap. The man held her and smelt her auburn hair making Sansa cry. A woman went to him and hit his head. “You don’t have to hit woman, stupid jerk.” She glanced at Sansa talking to her softly. “Do you remember me, girl? My name is Chella. You know me, you used to live with the small Lannister man.”

Sansa knew her. Tyrion told her once Chella cut more than forty ears by herself.

“My son is so stupid, forgive him.” She grabbed his ear until making him cry in agony. “He doesn’t know how to talk to women. I invite you all to my camp.”

The Black Ears were excluded by the rest of hill tribes because she did not like the leader of the Stone Crows. Chella did not care about their despise, she was respected as a strong woman and no one dare to bother her, she said. But she was truly terrified of Burned Man. All the hill tribes feared them.

“What will I do, child?” she asked herself while they eat in front of a fire. “Once I swore to the Imp over the blood of my sons I was going to protect you of people who wanted to damage you. An oath is an oath, but Timett could thrust my head on a pike over the Bloody Gate. He hates knights of the Vale.”

“We just need to cross those hills until Heart’s Home. He won’t know if you help us. Lady Sansa can talk to Bronze Yohn and he may give you land to live as you want,” said Petyr, persuading her. “You may be your own rulers and your leader will be at the same level of our lords, I’m sure no one could be a better leader than Chella.”

He was so good with words. Chella and her family accompanied them until they saw Heart’s Home appearing like a beautiful dream. Lyn received them with a scream when he discovered Petyr and Shadrich with an ear less. Oaths were oaths, and traditions were traditions. At least their wounds seemed worse than they really were. The savages slept there, leaving at the morning with a letter stamped with the Arryn’s ring.

“We’ll join Bronze Yohn,” said Chella before going. Her horse was spurred fiercely, and she started to yell orders to her sons. Seeing them disappearing on the horizon, Sansa knew she was safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, Robert has to die. I know he will die, but I hope he won't die like this. I mean heartbroken, in the middle of an earthquake.... that's sad


	22. Chapter 22

Her daughter was not going to return to her. Her sweet and innocent Myrcella.

Cersei pressed the letter between her fingers. She stared at the roof, like looking for a cure for her pain. She did not even have the solace of embrace her youngest son. Tommen fell from his room in the tower the day when the Sept of Baelor exploded. Some people said he commited suicide, but she refused to believe those horrible rumors. Vipers. Tommen had fell. It was an accident.

Her maternal love forced her to refuse believing he killed himself. After months of crying for his death, her heart burnt in pain. Nothing could make her feel better, even stopping the advance of the Tyrell whore in her court was enough for Cersei. Her sons were not there. Margaery, her stupid cousins, that stupid priest… she hoped they were burning in hell.

A blaze was burning in front of a body. Septa Unella. The only septa alive in the city, maybe in her lands because most of those women were in the sept where it exploded. She had passed months being tortured, strong enough to survive. Unella was sleeping, so Cersei dopped her wine over her face and laughed when she opened her eyes. “Is a shame you are drinking wine if you are a septa,” she laughed. “I know you like it. Confess your sins. You like it as you did when you cut my hair and took my garments. Maybe you felt stimulated seeing my beauty between those filthy, disgusting peasants.” The septa tried to move, just to seem like a pale worm. “Yes, probably. You weren’t interested in my soul. You did it because it pleased you. I understand.”

Cersei was going to smash her.

“Do you know somehing?” she asked. “I sin because I feel pleasure. That’s why I ordered my servants to explode the Sept of Baelor. I killed the High Septon and the men of the Faith Militant… all of them. That fire was beautiful, and it made burn lots of those gross men and women who laughed of me.”

With her delicate hand, Cersei touched the white cheek.

“Torturing you is pleasing me. But I see you won’t resist so much,” she sighed, pinching the face until it was red. “All the pleasures have an end.”

“I’m ready to leave,” mumbled the septa. “I wait for the gods with an open heart.”

Cersei laughed loudly and Unella stared at her.

The septa was frightened.

That was the most delicious thing for her.

“I’ve never said you were going to die.” The face was red, white, and then purple. “You are alive for a reason. Ser Robert.”

The giant man was waiting for her as he always did. He walked to her: after her signal, he took his helmet away, showing his ugly and terrifying face. Clegane was not exactly a handsome man, but death had disfigured him. “This is the man who defended my honor in front of the Seven,” Cersei smiled while the septa stared at him. “They say punishment can purify our souls. This man may take you closet to your gods.”

Cersei left, laughing like a child. Before closing the door, she saw Robert going to the woman slowly. She did not think he was going to rape her, but it was something he liked to do when he was alive. It did not matter to her. Qyburn was waiting outside and gave her a gentle glance. “She doesn’t have to die,” she said. “I want her alive, no matter her state. I want her conscious.”

“She won’t die. At least until you’ll say so.”

“Alright.”

Qyburn was the only man who she could trust. He gave her a man to fight for her, he gave her the pleasure of torturing her enemies and he gave her Varys little birds. That was why she gave him the charge of Hand of the Queen and Master of Whisperers. She even let him walk next to her, as an equal. Not after her as a dog.

He was the only man she could trust. “Lord Jaime is here, and he asks for an audience.”

“He has to wait,” she said. “I must change my clothes. I’ll meet him in the library.”

Cersei walked through the solitaire castle until her chambers. In some places, the servants were cleaning the broken glasses: her maid, Jocelyn, told her there was a ground movement. Cersei did not feel anything, she was sleeping quietly due to wine, the only thing that gave her a feeling of peace. Without it, she could not handle the death of her daughter. Her Myrcella. _Why she?_ she thought while Jocelyn helped her to change her clothes.

Her naked body seemed vulnerable in front of the mirrors. Her hair was a little bit loner, but without her mane she seemed like a lioness with no breeding. That was true, and she had indelible signs of suffering. Jocelyn poured the wine many times after lacing her waist with red ribbons.

Cersei left the room trembling, almost losing her coordination. Jocelyn ran after her as she always did, with a tray, wine, and glasses. When they reached the library, Cersei took the things in Jocelyn’s hands and pushed her away. 

The shape in front of the chimney bent his knee in front of her. The disgusting beard was crossed by grey threads, repeling her but at the same time, worrying her. At least it was brushed. Maybe her brother had something like common sense. She extender her hand to be kissed. “You are late,” she grumped. “I forgive you. Sit down.”

The golden hand was shining and almost blinded her when he sat near of the table. Jaime was not wearing the white cloak but a red armor, like his father’s. “I saw the fire, but I was far away. It was extinct, but just when I reached the city.” He grabbed his old hand with his own one. “You could kill all your people. You could even die. What the hell were you thinking? What are those men painting in the courtyard?”

“It’s a map,” she answered pouring some wine within the glasses. “Those are the best painters. Father desired that. For us.”

“Don’t talk about it.”

Cersei smiled to him. He reminded. When they were children, his father insisted on teaching Jaime all the mountains, vales and rivers of the continent. Unlike him, she never had any problem learning them, a queen had to know her land. She caressed his hair. It was not long as it used to be, but it still smooth and golden. How could he keep it golden? After the betraying of that unsightly, enormous woman, and his flight of the gallows of the outlaws… “The kingdoms are ours, Jaime,” she said suggestive. “We just have to take them.”

She gave him one of the glasses. It used to be enough to seduce him in the past; a very small sign was sufficing for Jaime to move and rip her clothes. But in that moment, Jaime seemed insensible and she felt stupid. “How many glasses did you drink?”

“I don’t have to answer.”

“Drinking like an old slag. You’ll be like Robert,” he grumped. “A blonde version of an old sot.”

Robert. How could Jaime compare her? With him, that jerk? Her hand slapped him, leaving a red stain on his face. Cersei knew she won the combat of her marriage. She won, she handled him using her body at night and laughing of her at day. How could her brother compare her to an old sot who was a coward? “Close you mouth. I’m your queen. You must respect me! No one has the right to question me. Not even you!” she yelled hysteric, so she had to stop to breathe. “You don’t know anything I had to pass! You weren’t her to defend my honor in the judgement and you didn’t see me walking naked through the streets in front of those filthy peasants who mocked of me! Where were you when Tommen died? Or when that letter which talked about Myrcella’s death arrived?”

Full of rage she threw the glass against the wall, trembling like a candle flame. Cersei went against Jaime, hitting him strong as she could: he held her until his hits became into weak attempts of pushing him away.

“You were not here,” she said. “You failed to me.”

“I know.”

Jaime caressed her head clumsily. They sat holding each other, like they used to do as children. Cersei wanted to cry, but it was humiliating. Instead of that, she kissed him. For a minute she tried to forget her troubles, but she could not forget about Tommen and Myrcella. They were surrounded by enemies. With her last ray of reason, she left him and started to walk in circles.

“Our enemies are waiting for us. That old cunt and her pigs in Dorne, the old hag of Highgarden,” she bellowed. “Stannis is in the North fighting against Bolton next to that Stark bastard.”

“People say he is a good commander.”

“The Vale is a disaster. The Arryn child is dead and those men who rule are too busy with the savages of the hills,” she whispered before drinking more. “You are commanding my army. What should we do?”

They left the room due to visit the courtyard where the painters worked on the map of the Seven Kindoms. It was almost done. Men tried to present her their respect, but Cersei ordered them to leave the place and she stood over the draw of King’s Landing. Jaime admired the picture: it was too expensive, so she knew she had to kill the apprentices to reduce the amount of gold to pay. “We must get food, gold and weapons,” he said interrupting her thoughts. “The house of Tyrell has wheat and cattle. We must feed men and horses. You need lots of gold, so you shall made Casterly Rock produce more.”

“I try. At least we don’t have any debts to the Faith or father,” she grinned bitterly. “But there’s the Iron Bank. They have us into their bag, and if we don’t pay, they won’t give us anything more. They are disgusting dogs; they are capable of joining our enemies.”

“If you want the truth… we are the looser band,” said Jaime kneading his golden hand. “What will you do? We have no allies. Frey and his sons are dead. We are going to lose the control of the Riverlands due to the outlaws. Littlefinger is lost, maybe he is dead. Bolton is playing with Stannis.”

Cersei stared at him disgusted. She was not looser. “I’ll create a new duty for the brothels: if they don’t pay, we’ll close them. Those whores will work more,” she mocked. “And we’ll cut the tongues of our prisoners.”

“Why?”

“We’ll send them as slaves in Lys and Tyrosh, of course. Your job is keeping enough men to free us of our debts,” she told him coldy and he freezed. “We’ll sell the orphans too. Nobody needs them.”

For a reason she could not understand, he was almost green, like he wanted to vomit. Cersei was surprised. She stood humiliation for long years and she did not want to lose everything she fought for. She could not stand that kind of humiliation as she did with other types. War had to be financed, but she could not count with the gold of Casterly Rock: she could not count with a depleted field.

So, Littlefinger dissapeared. His corpse was going to be found someday or not, she did not care. At the end, he could be dangerous. At least the Riverlands were too damaged due to war, so their people were not able to treason their queen. The North was under the rule of Ramsay Bolton, whose only problem was Stannis Baratheon. A stain which refused to disappear. Casterly Rock served her as the Crownlands did… since the explosion of the sept. But the Stormlands were out of her hands, and she chad no control over Dorne and the Reach.

Especially the last one.

“Dorne is dry as a stone is. Poison their rivers and you’ll have them in your hands. Qyburn’s little birds are going to contaminate their water. Their rivers, their lakes, their wells. You’ll attack Highgarden.”

Jaime stared at her almost dismayed when she talked to him about her new allies. Cersei ignored his complaining because she knew it was a game, and the loser of the game was going to die. She was not going to die. Jaime was not going to die. Her wine was drink fast, Cersei thought she used to be capable of leaving the throne for Myrcella and Tommen in the future. She loved them. She wanted them to be happy and powerful. Everything she did was for them.

And they were dead.

She slept alone, missing her brother’s body next to her. His heart was far away of her, distant, but she knew he still loving her. Of course, he did. They had to be together. They were always together.

At next day, dark ships appeared, each one more impressive than the previous one. All of them had dark vails painted with black eyes, black as the night. “Greyjoy”, she told Jaime. “They have ships and they like blood.”

“Greyjoy” repeated her brother angrily. “They are thieves. They destroy everything they touch, and they steal what they cannot build. Do you really want to make them your allies?”

“Yes. I mean, not all of them,” she said turning to him. “Euron’s brother betrayed him and he wants to avenge his offense.”

Hours later, Euron was received as a guest. He was attactive, with a black beard with no grey hair and his eyes- his eye, blue. His lips were blue too, almost black. Unfortunately, the patch of his eye ruined his face, but it gave him an interesting look.

“Your majesty,” he said, “I’m grateful for this invitation. I brought you a present to show you my devotion and good will.”

While he talked, some slaves walked to her. Gold, jewels, luxury fabrics, animal fur. Old swords of valyrian steel. She smiled, conscious that she seemed like a lion staring at his prey. Most of those gifts were going to be sell, so she could get more gold to pay her debts. “Thanks for your presents,” she answered. “You’ll be taken to your rooms to give you time to rest of your trip. This night we’ll celebrate a fest in your honor.”

That fest was luxurious and extravagant; Cersei spent most of the gold she had in her archs to give an impression of wealth. The dress she was wearing was expensive and she could hardly afford it, but the green of its emeralds enhanced her green eyes. Her beautiful hair was adorned with multicolor gems which shone under the light of the candleholders. The courtesans were too impressed and too terrified of her, she knew which was the effect of her beauty over men. When Euron told her that he desired to request for a private audience with her, she was not surprised.

Jocelyn held the long trail of her dress while they walked. Robert Strong and Euron’s men followed them too, but he ordered them to go away when they were in his room. Cersei indicated Jocelyn she had to leave with them. “Won’t he go?” Euron asked in a low, sedductive voice. “No one can see what I have for you.”

“Ser Robert had made a vow of silence,” she said simply. “He is loyal to his queen and he won’t talk.”

“Well, I guess.”

Euron took off his cloak fast and then did the same with his clothes until staying just in his chemise and pants. Cersei imagined what was his secret gift, but she simulated she had no idea while he talked about his brother.”

“That son of a bitch betrayed me. Just because I fucked his wife one or two times and put a child on his stomach. What the hell was wrong? He could just kill him and follow his life without bothering me.” He closed his mouth, like he was waiting for an answer. Then, he continued. “He sent a crow telling me he was going to find the dragon woman and marry her. We meet in the middle of the sea and he fled, but I take his arm for me. And the horn.”

“Horn?”

A horn sounded like nothing special. In horns drank the old fat sot, and it was not a good memory for her. Euron grinned and laughed, getting closer to an enormous chest in the corner of the room. “Please, come closer, my queen.”

Cersei had to stand on her toes when she reached him. The chest was bigger than her and it contained a horn. It was a large horn carved with strange letters. “One of the priests of my brother told me how I could use this to rule dragons after I tied him to the anchor of my ship. He almost drowned,” he said while laughing. Seemed like the memory was pleasing to him. “The blood of my brother Aeron made it mine.”

Euron went closer to her like a hungry animal and stared at her eyes. Cersei knew that glance, she saw it in hundreds of men since the day she bled for first time. It was not convenient to her give him what he wanted so easily. He smiled. “I saw a painting of the dragón queen in one of my adventures. And I saw a dragon flying over the sea. People say she is beautiful, but they have not seen you,” he whispered to her ear. “The light of the West. You are the queen of the Seven Kingdoms and I rule the oceans. From Ib to Asshai when men see my ships they fear. They pray.”

Cersei moved away, but she looked forward to showing him her how beautiful her skin seemed under the light of the candles. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll give you my fleet. You’ll conquer the oceans and defeat your enemies.” Euron walked towards her and bent his knee. “Since I was a child, I dreamed to wed the most beautiful woman in the world. I have ships, men and two hands.”

He laughed, and it was cruel. Sarcastic.

“I decline your offer,” Cersei said with all her dignity. “You have betrayed your allies after all.”

She knew he was not going to betray her because she was different to all his old allies. And she was the most beautiful woman. But she showed him a doubtful face. “I know you cannto trust me right now, so I’ll give you a probe of my honesty soon,” he said.

Cersei dejected his offer to accompany her to her chambers. Jocelyn was waiting outside with her face full of tears and part of her bodice ripped: she almost run after Robert Strong, who did not look away of his queen. She helped Cersei to undress and went to her small room.

A strange thought roamed her head in a moment between conscience and dream. People said that the dragon queen was beautiful. Could she be the woman of her prophecy?


End file.
